


Parsimony

by PantheraUncia



Series: The New Clan Adventures: Harmony Trilogy [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Adventure, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Violence, Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Cooperation, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Group Journey, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kitten Death, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Pov, Original Character(s), Personal Growth, Polyamorous Character, Searching for a New Home, Sickness, Suffering together, lots of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-01-07 21:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12241224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PantheraUncia/pseuds/PantheraUncia
Summary: One will grow; one will lose; one will decide; one will divide; and all will suffer.  Sometimes the simplest solution, no matter how difficult to bear or how heart-breaking the consequences, may be the only choice.





	1. Allegiances and Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, welcome! Fair warning, don't expect frequent updates. However, I do write chapters in advance, so expect at least 2 chapters per update.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors.

ALLEGIANCES

RiverClan

Leader: Fallowstar-large dark gray tom with faint tabby stripes, a white chest, and light yellow eyes.

Deputy: Rainstep-white she-cat with blue gray patches and blue eyes.

Medicine Cat: Echosky-soft silver tabby she-cat with white paws and blue eyes.

Warriors:

Prickleclaw-large ginger tabby tom with white muzzle, chest, and paws, and yellow-green eyes.  _Apprentice: Deltapaw._

Birdbelly-light brown tabby she-cat with white forepaws and yellow eyes.

Pale-eye-large golden-brown spotted tabby tom with dark legs, one bright yellow eye and one scarred, blind gray eye.

Mottlednose-dark golden brown spotted tabby with white paws and yellow-amber eyes.  _Apprentice: Leafpaw._

Clovershade-black she-cat with white chest blaze and vibrant green eyes.  _Apprentice: Frogpaw._

Lynxfur-very large brown-gray tabby tom with pale yellow eyes.

Goldenpatch-white and orange splotched tom with amber eyes.  _Apprentice: Hailpaw._

Dovewhisper-pale gray mackerel tabby she-cat with mottled darker patches and light blue eyes.

Hemlocktail-large dark brown tabby tom with a white-tipped tail and orange eyes.

Ibiswing-white she-cat with amber eyes.

Jadesong-white and ginger tabby splotched she-cat with yellow-amber eyes.  _Apprentice: Oatpaw._

Acornwhisker-brown tabby tom with white chest and green eyes.

Reedpool-white and brown tabby splotched she-cat with vibrant green eyes.  _Apprentice: Mistpaw._

Swallowstorm-black and white patched tom with blue eyes.  _Apprentice: Mosspaw._

Frostpetal-light gray tabby she-cat with white paws, a white-tipped tail, and amber eyes.

Piketail-gray tabby tom with copper eyes.

Apprentices:

Deltapaw-large dark gray tom with a white chest and green eyes.

Hailpaw-light silver spotted tabby tom with white chest and blue eyes.

Mistpaw-white she-cat with light green eyes.

Oatpaw-white and ginger tabby patched she-cat with green eyes.

Frogpaw-brown mackerel tabby tom with dark feet and yellow eyes.

Leafpaw-light brown tabby she-cat with white patches and pale yellow eyes.

Mosspaw/dapple-tortoiseshell tabby she-cat with amber eyes.

Queens:

Roseflower-all black she-cat with light green eyes. Mate: Mottlednose.  _Kits: Shadowkit (black she-kit with amber eyes), Bark-kit (golden brown tabby tom with light green eyes)._

Baybreeze-pale blue-gray she-cat with white forehead blaze and light blue eyes. Mate: Lynxfur.  _Kits: Pebblekit (blue-gray tabby she-kit with yellow eyes), Firkit (gray-brown tabby she-kit with pale blue eyes), Graykit (gray she-kit with white chest and yellow eyes)._

Sandystream-pale cream tabby she-cat with a white-tipped tail and dark amber eyes. Mate: Acornwhisker.  _Expecting._

Elders:

Dustnose-gray tabby tom with a white muzzle and green eyes.

Molefoot-chocolate brown tom with amber eyes.

Ripplescar-old black tom with scarred pelt and amber eyes.

Sleekstorm-silver tabby she-cat with dark stripes and pale yellow eyes, retired early due to chronic illness.

ShadowClan

Leader: Amberstar-dark tortoiseshell she-cat with brilliant amber eyes.

Deputy: Rubbleheart-dark gray and white splotched tom with yellow eyes.

Medicine Cat: Wolfeye-jet black tom with a white forehead blaze and odd eyes (one amber, one blue).  _Apprentice: Mousepaw._

Warriors:

Juncoclaw-gray tom with white underbelly and paws and green eyes.  _Apprentice: Beechpaw._

Granitestrike-large light gray tabby tom with white muzzle, chest, belly, paws, and tail-tip, and yellow eyes.

Thornscar-white tom with scarred pelt and copper eyes.

Screewhisker-dark brown tabby tom with a white chest and amber eyes.

Slicktail-black tom with amber eyes.

Chervilheart-tortoiseshell she-cat with white chest and yellow eyes.

Batfang-jet black tom with green eyes.

Patchbelly-ginger and white patched tom with golden eyes.  _Apprentice: Fennelpaw._

Antspots-light caramel brown spotted tabby tom with yellow eyes.

Mudtalon-dark gray-brown tabby tom with long claws and copper eyes.  _Apprentice: Larchpaw._

Timberfoot-large, chocolate brown tom with amber eyes.

Volestripe-caramel brown tabby tom with white paws and amber eyes.

Redfire-ginger tabby she-cat with yellow eyes.  _Apprentice: Hawkpaw._

Seedshine-pale cream tabby she-cat with amber eyes.

Snaketooth-light brown tabby tom with dark stripes and yellow eyes.

Falconfall-dusty brown tabby tom with dark stripes, a white chest and paws, and green eyes.

Apprentices:

Beechpaw-black tom with bright amber eyes.

Fennelpaw-pale brown tabby she-cat with white paws and green eyes.

Larchpaw-black and ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with copper eyes.

Hawkpaw-brown tabby tom with yellow eyes.

Mousepaw-light gray tabby she-cat with blue eyes.

Queens:

Dewsong-white she-cat with light green-yellow eyes. Mate: Granitestrike.  _Kits: Lavenderkit (light gray and white patched she-kit with green eyes), Skykit (white she-kit with one blue eye and one yellow eye, deaf in one ear), Squirrelkit (fluffy gray tabby tom with a white-tipped tail and yellow eyes)._

Lilypool-silver tabby she-cat with white paws and blue eyes. Mate: Slicktail.  _Kits: Waspkit (light silver tabby tom with dark stripes and amber eyes), Ashenkit (all silver she-kit with blue eyes)._

Fernberry-white she-cat with green eyes. Mate: Mudtalon.  _Expecting._

Whitestream-ginger tabby and white patched she-cat with yellow eyes. Mate: Volestripe.  _Expecting._

Elders:

Furledleaf-old ginger tabby she-cat with a white chest and green eyes.

Raggedfur-shaggy brown tom with tattered ears and amber eyes.

ThunderClan

Leader: Maplestar-Caramel brown tabby tom with a white chest and paws and warm amber eyes.

Deputy: Quickleap-lithe gray tabby tom with pale blue eyes.

Medicine Cat: Sorrelheart-dark ginger tabby tom with yellow eyes.

Warriors:

Cedarstorm-large dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes.  _Apprentice: Stormpaw._

Browndapple-dark brown and ginger tortoiseshell-tabby she-cat with green eyes.  _Apprentice: Olivepaw._

Leopardcloud-large golden spotted tabby she-cat with dark stripes/spots, white paws, and pale yellow eyes.

Tanglewhisker-ginger tabby tom with a white chest blaze and green eyes.

Birchtooth-silver tabby tom with blue eyes.

Shrewtuft-long-furred chocolate brown tom with tufted ears and green eyes.  _Apprentice: Duskpaw._

Weaselclaw-gray-brown tabby tom with pale green eyes.

Crowstep-lithe black tom with golden eyes.

Ivyshadow-silver tabby she-cat with dark stripes and golden eyes.

Tawnyfeather-blue and cream tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes.  _Apprentice: Laurelpaw._

Darkfoot-dark smoky gray ticked tom with copper eyes.

Nightwind-sleek black tom with long legs and vibrant green eyes.

Tansypool-tortoiseshell tabby and white she-cat with green eyes.

Rowanstripe-ginger tabby tom with green eyes.

Apprentices:

Stormpaw-dark gray tabby she-cat with white chest and golden eyes.

Duskpaw-ginger tabby tom with dark stripes and pale yellow eyes.

Laurelpaw-black and ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with golden eyes.

Olivepaw-black tom with icy green eyes.

Queens:

Grasseye-gray and white patched she-cat with emerald green eyes. Mate: Cedarstorm.  _Expecting._

Sparrowflight-blue-gray tabby and white patched she-cat with green eyes. Mate: Tanglewhisker.  _Kits: Slatekit (blue-gray tabby tom with green eyes), Galekit (white and gray splotched she-kit with green eyes)._

Applepool-dark ginger she-cat with bright blue eyes. Mate: Crowstep.  _Kits: Berrykit (dark tortoiseshell she-kit with golden eyes), Sunkit (ginger tabby tom with golden eyes), Fawnkit (pale ginger tabby she-kit with pale blue eyes)._

Elders:

Speedwell-dark brown tabby tom with white chest and yellow eyes. Formerly a loner.

Trefoilfur-old tortoiseshell and white she-cat with green eyes.

Bucktail-dusty brown tom with white chest and amber eyes.

WindClan

Leader: Hickorystar-huge, old, pale gray tabby tom with green eyes.

Deputy: Blackberrywing-jet black she-cat with bright green eyes.

Medicine Cat: Heatherstep-lean gray mackerel tabby she-cat with golden eyes.

Warriors:

Martenstorm-muscular dark, chocolate brown tabby tom with amber eyes.  _Apprentice: Silverpaw._

Gooseshadow-dusky brown spotted tabby tom with yellow eyes.

Marblespots-pale silver spotted tabby tom with dark stripes and light green eyes.  _Apprentice: Talonpaw._

Skyheart-gray tabby and white splotched tom with blue eyes.  _Apprentice: Clovepaw._

Pollenwind-ginger tabby she-cat with golden eyes.

Sycamorefur-huge black tom with copper eyes.

Ilexfang-black and white spotted tom with yellow eyes.

Columbineleaf-pale silver tabby she-cat with blue eyes.  _Apprentice: Erminepaw._

Nimbleshade-blue-gray tabby tom with green eyes.

Flittersong-blue and cream tortoiseshell she-cat with yellow eyes.

Wormwhisker-cream tabby tom with long tail and copper eyes.  _Apprentice: Dianthuspaw._

Runningbreeze-lilac mackerel tabby tom with green eyes.

Stagtail-brown ticked tom with a white muzzle and bright golden eyes.  _Apprentice: Asterpaw._

Waxwillow-pale cream ticked she-cat with dark orange eyes.

Duscleclaw-black and white splotched tom with yellow eyes.

Apprentices:

Talonpaw-dark brown shaded tom with golden eyes.

Silverpaw-gray tabby tom with light green eyes.

Clovepaw-black and ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes.

Asterpaw-pale blue tabby tom with white paws and yellow eyes.

Erminepaw-white she-cat with amber eyes.

Dianthuspaw-white she-cat with one blue eye and one amber eye, deaf in one ear.

Queens:

Wheatcloud-dust brown and cream tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes. Mate: Marblespots.  _Kits: Tasselkit (silver tabby tom with green eyes), Rainykit (blue and cream tortoiseshell she-kit with green eyes), Marigoldkit (ginger tabby she-kit with pale green eyes), Daffodilkit (cream she-kit with dark amber eyes)._

Cottonpool-fluffy white she-cat with one green eye and one blue eye, deaf in one ear. Mate: Wormwhisker.  _Expecting._

Pansyfeather-brown tabby she-cat with white chest, paws, and tail tip, and green eyes. Mate: Ilexfang.  _Expecting._

Violapetal-black and ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes. Mate: Nimbleshade.  _Expecting._

Elders:

Quakerleaf-very dark gray tabby she-cat with icy blue eyes.

Rabbitstripe-cream tabby tom with copper eyes.

Cats Outside of Clans

Ormica-huge jet black tom with one white paw, shredded ears, and yellow eyes. Rogue.

Axel-muscular brown tabby tom with one green eye. Rogue.

Hakana-lithe ginger tabby she-cat with a white chest and golden eyes. Rogue.

Viletta-pretty seal point she-cat with bright blue eyes. Rogue.

Arius-large golden tabby tom with darker rosettes and brilliant copper eyes. Kittypet.

Saran-dainty silver tabby she-cat with green eyes. Rogue.

Kidd-plump ginger tabby tom with a white chest, paws, and tail tip, and green eyes. Kittypet.

Ramsee-gray and white splotched she-cat with yellow eyes. Kittypet.

Straus-chocolate brown tom with a white forehead blaze and gold eyes. Loner.

PROLOGUE

Mist curled its soft fingers around the dew-laden thermals. The air was calm and warm; winter never visited. A river cut through the land like a jagged claw mark stretching open the flesh of the earth. Cattails wagged back and forth, huddling where the stream was shallowest. A multitude of stars glittered everywhere. Some were close enough to touch, others were barely visible.

Shapes huddled around the reeds and cattails, murmuring excitedly to one another. A tortoiseshell she-cat pointed a paw at a dark shape looming in the tall grasses of the river bank.

"There he is. Do you see him?" the little tortie asked excitedly, "He's about to strike."

"If we caught him, we could feed all of StarClan for moons!" rumbled a gray tom.

"He'll get even bigger if we leave him be," another cat commented.

"Shut up and watch! He's about to take on that sun fish," the tortoiseshell she-cat growled to the others.

The group hushed, watching as the hooked lower jaw and round eyes of the river monster poked out further from the reeds. The massive predator had his sights set on a group of small sun fish frolicking in the current. Ever so slowly, the creature slid out into the open until the gleam of its sharp fangs could be seen by the cats watching from above.

"He's going to give himself away," a ginger tabby spat.

Just as the cat spoke, the giant fish struck out of the reeds at the sun fish. The sunnies saw him coming and dashed away to safety down into the wider river.

The ginger tabby commented again, "What an arrogant fool. He could have the whole river to himself, but he's a lousy hunter if I ever saw one—a lot like some of the apprentices I've trained."

"He's still young," the tortoiseshell pointed out, "He may have a lot to learn, but some day he's going to catch those sun fish, and all the fishes will come to respect his reign in the river."

A silver tabby she-cat wormed her way to the front of the cats, trying to reach the tortoiseshell. She accidentally stepped on the cranky ginger tabby's paw and murmured a quiet apology. Finally, she reached the side of the ginger and black she-cat.

"I'm glad all is well," the silver cat told the tortoiseshell, "No offense to being a medicine cat, but these are my favorite visits."

The tortie she-cat gave a small laugh, "I like these too. Trust me, none of us like warning our clans against impending danger. We are helpless to do anything more than that. It is a comfort to know that RiverClan is safe, and of course it is always nice to see you Echosky."

"Is it time for me to go now?" Echosky asked.

The tortoiseshell pondered for a second, "You can stay a while longer. Feel free to visit with old friends. I'll take you to the Moonpool when it's time for you to return to the waking world." She gave Echosky a small lick on the shoulder before fading away into the mistiness.

Many fox-lengths away, in the thick of the pine woods, another two cats waded through a grove of blooming flowers.

"I've never seen so many plants in ShadowClan's forest," a huge black tom said. Beside him, a dusty brown tabby nodded his head.

"I wish the flowers in StarClan grew in ShadowClan's territory too," the tabby meowed.

"What are those berries called?" the black tom inquired, flicking his ear at a plant with tiny white flowers and pale, unripe berries growing on it.

"That's a thimbleberry plant," the tabby tom explained, "They're not good for anything really, though if you find one that's ripe, it tastes decent. I'm pretty sure there are some on ShadowClan's outside border, near the kittypet house. You should know that though. How many moons have you been medicine cat now, Wolfeye?"

The black cat purred, "Too many to count. Luckily, the majority of those moons have been spent in peace."

"Do you ever miss it? Being a warrior I mean?" the brown tabby asked.

Wolfeye silently watched the waving flowers of the thimbleberry plant for a moment before responding, "Those were dark times for me. I was a great fighter, too great for my own good. My purpose will always be better served as a medicine cat. My life is sworn to healing instead of hell. So no, I don't miss it. I still have every mouse-length of pride for ShadowClan as I did when I was a warrior."

The dusty tom gave Wolfeye a hard stare, before returning his gaze to the flowers. All around, multi-hued petals flaunted their prettiness and golden nectar lay smeared seductively over the centers of the delicate blossoms. Every once in a while, a shaft of light would glance off a tiny seed hidden amongst the leaf litter. The two cats sat quietly, entranced, until the silence had carried on for a moment too long.

"When must I return?" Wolfeye spoke softly, his voice holding a note of regret.

"There's still time," the tabby replied, "Stay while you can and find others to visit with. I'll take you back when it's time for you to go."

Out past the ShadowClan border, thunder rumbled its promise of rain over the very clan named after it. A dark ginger tom stood crouched beside a starry silver cat, both waiting to pounce. A large blackbird sat only a few rabbit-lengths away from them, pecking at the ground. Swift as lightning, the silver cat launched at the bird and it took off, flapping and cawing madly. It was stopped by a bite to its neck from the ginger tom. Finishing the blackbird off quickly, the red tom puffed up his chest with pride.

"Nice catch, Sorrelheart," the silver tom cat commented, "I wouldn't have gotten it without your help."

"I can't believe it was out looking for food in this storm," Sorrelheart purred. He dug his claws into the ground and buried his catch, "Now that I think of it, how can it be raining in StarClan?"

The silver tom glanced up at the cloudy bands of stars above, "It is the same as in the waking world. Without water, the plants would not grow, and there would be no prey to feast on those plants. If the rain displeases you, we can find a place to stay dry."

Sorrelheart laughed, "I don't mind the rain. I was just curious. Do we have time to keep hunting or do I need to wake up soon?"

"I have time for one more catch if you do."

Beyond the dense forest, the sky cleared, and the sun shown down on the open moor. Cats dashed after rabbits, while others lazed about on the soft grass, sharing tongues. A lean gray tabby she-cat stalked up the hillside flanked by a black and white tom. The ridge at the top of the hill was lined with innumerable different wildflowers. Multicolored specks dotted the land for as far as the eye could see. The gray tabby stopped to sniff a little lavender flower, before sneezing particles of pollen from her nostrils.

"The daisies are really widespread this year," the patched tom pointed out, "I've never seen so many. That one you just smelled is an aster. They're sprouting up all over the place."

"I wish I could spend the rest of my life in this field," the she-cat whispered. The black and white tom looked at her solemnly.

"Don't wish away your life Heatherstep. Once StarClan calls you, you can spend as much time here as you like. I'll be right beside you," he told her.

A breeze pushed its way through the meadow of flowers and each one swayed in rhythm, making it look as though a giant paw had just brushed over every petal. The black and white splotched tom cat moved closer to Heatherstep, his tail twining with hers.

"In StarClan, there are still boundaries between clan and clan, but they are skewed. Sometimes I wish that those below us lived the same. Everyone here lives much more peacefully," the tom admitted, "But then again, we all still feel the calling of a warrior's life. Even the medicine cats yearn for the feeling of fur beneath their claws at times. That's what the life below is for: battles, tension… passion. Sometimes I wish I hadn't chosen the life of a medicine cat, so I could have experienced that too. Well, I guess I did experience it, just in a different way. I don't have any regrets…"

Heatherstep pulled her tail away from the splotched tom, "I don't either."

The tom gazed at her knowingly, "Of course you don't. It's time that I led you back to the waking world now."

He stood, leading her back down the grassy hill. Mist began to blot out the sunshine as they padded across the lands of StarClan. It wasn't long before they reached the edge of a pool. Around it sat the other medicine cats: Echosky, Wolfeye, and Sorrelheart. Heatherstep turned to say goodbye to the black and white tom, only to find that he had vanished.

From within the curling sheet of mist, the tortoiseshell, the brown tabby, the silver cat, and the black and white splotched tom watched as the four living medicine cats faded from view, returning to the real world. As soon as they were gone, the ground began to shake and rumble. Over ThunderClan's side, lightning beat down against the treetops, sending showers of sparks in all directions.

The black and white StarClan cat lowered his head, "I feel guilty for hiding this from them."

"It was all we could do!" the tortoiseshell growled over the creaking of the earth.

"Terrible times are coming and they—we—will face something that not even the Three, who had the power of the stars in their paws, could have aided against. StarClan and the clans are falling into ruin, and so few will survive this," the brown tabby murmured, "The least we could do is ease the minds of the medicine cats. This is not something that can be prevented. The clans' very existence is riding on the success of only a select few cats, and even if they do succeed, it will never be the same for both the living and the dead."

A distant roaring noise burst through the air, just as the first flames engulfed the tops of a huge oak tree. Cats shrieked in fear as the ground below began to crack and give way. Trees started falling everywhere as smoke and dust choked the atmosphere. The silver tom stared at the other three StarClan cats, "We need to go,  _now_."

All four took off, running with an entire stampede of frightened StarClan warriors, as they fled the lands they once called paradise. Behind them, their home crumbled into oblivion.


	2. Chapter 1: Different Ways to Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly: slang term for a she-cat, typically used when referring to a she-cat who has been with a lot of toms.
> 
> Lion: slang term for a tom that has relations with many she-cats.
> 
> Plus, look at the end of each chapter for some fun facts about the story!

CHAPTER 1

"Let all cats old enough to swim gather for a clan meeting!" a large, dark gray tom cat yowled from his position at the highest point of the hill. He glanced down into the marshy clearing with pride glimmering in his eyes.

Pikepaw was the first cat out, his heart thumping excitedly in his chest. He was so wound up that he felt the unshakeable urge to stand and pace rapidly in circles, and his breath was already ragged with pure delight. Today was the day he became a warrior!

RiverClan cats flooded towards the center of the clearing from their dens and the sun-warmed rocks just outside of camp. The entire space was packed in only a matter of seconds. Fallowstar, the gray tabby leader, and also Pikepaw's father, silenced the crowd with a flick of his tail. Pikepaw felt his claws scraping the ground in anticipation. His sister, Frostpaw, had quietly taken a seat next to him, her fur neatly groomed. Pikepaw curiously wondered how she was able to keep so still, but his attention shifted back to the front of the clearing as Fallowstar began:

"It has come to my attention that two young cats were assessed today. Birdbelly, Rainstep, do you believe that Pikepaw and Frostpaw have successfully completed their assessments and are ready to become full RiverClan warriors?"

Birdbelly, a brown tabby she-cat nodded her head to her leader, sending Pikepaw a warm glance. Rainstep, RiverClan's deputy, did the same.

"Very well," the tall tom leader continued, "I, Fallowstar, leader of RiverClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these two apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn. Pikepaw, Frostpaw, do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code, and protect and defend your clan even at the cost of your life?"

Pikepaw's chest swelled even more, and his hackles stood on end as he cried, "I do!"

Frostpaw's response was more collected, but joy glittered in her amber eyes as she repeated her brother.

Fallowstar looked down at his kin with fondness, "Then by the powers of StarClan, I grant each of you your warrior names. From this day forward, Pikepaw, you shall be known as Piketail. StarClan honors your loyalty and willingness. Frostpaw, from this day forward, you shall be known as Frostpetal. StarClan honors your patience and skill. RiverClan welcomes you both as full warriors!"

"Piketail, Frostpetal! Piketail, Frostpetal!" the clan cheered as Fallowstar touched noses to his children's foreheads.

Piketail's tail curled eagerly. The shouts of his clan mates filled his ears until the only thing he could think was the sound of his new name being called over and over again. Now, all he had to do was sit the stupid vigil, and, once dawn broke tomorrow morning, he could do whatever he wanted. His clan mates pressed in around him and his sister, congratulating them both, the echoes of their voices pulling Piketail into decadent oblivion.

Rainstep dismissed the two new warriors from their vigil just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Piketail was exhausted, his body running only on the fumes of his incorrigible self-indulgence. He was, after all, the son of Fallowstar, great leader of RiverClan, and a skilled fighter. He liked to think of himself as the jock amongst the toms, a real alpha male. His gray, striped pelt rippled over broad shoulders and muscular flanks. He had sleek, well-groomed fur, pointed ears, and he was a very strong swimmer, even for a RiverClan cat. His voice was rich and masculine, and he had deep copper eyes like leaves in Leaf-fall that had undoubtedly captured the hearts of many she-cats already. At least, that's how he viewed himself.

He found himself padding habitually toward the apprentice's den when he remembered that he was a warrior now. He bent down to sniff something on the ground, to make his obvious mistake hopefully less noticeable. Not that any cat was really around besides Rainstep, who was organizing a patrol consisting of Pale-eye, Goldenpatch, and Hailpaw. Bumbling into the warrior's den, Piketail found an empty nest on the outside edge next to his friend Swallowstorm, and flopped loudly into it, sending up a tiny puff of sand and dust. Curling his tail over his nose, sleep came almost instantly.

It seemed like only minutes when Piketail was woken up by a soft blow to the shoulder. He glared blearily up at the face of Prickleclaw, a senior warrior.

"You're wanted for a border patrol. Bring Acornwhisker with you," the big ginger tabby growled.

Piketail felt his hackles begin to rise at the hostile tone in Prickleclaw's voice. He was a warrior now; the others didn't just get to boss him around like they did when he was an apprentice. However, Prickleclaw was renowned for not tolerating any nonsense, and though Piketail desperately wanted to sleep until dawn the next day, he forced himself not to argue.

Prickleclaw left the reedy hollow of the warrior's den leaving Piketail to nudge another close friend of his, Acornwhisker, but the brown tabby opened his eyes before Piketail got the chance.

"No worries, I heard him. Best not to keep them waiting," the level-headed tom smiled, flicking Piketail on the ear with his chestnut-colored tail. Both toms clambered out of the den, the sun blinding Piketail as he emerged, causing him to blink rapidly. Prickleclaw and Lynxfur stood waiting near the camp entrance for the two younger warriors. Prickleclaw's tail lashed impatiently, but Lynxfur seemed calm enough.

Without a word, Prickleclaw led them out of the camp and across the river, towards the boundary with ShadowClan. Before they could get to the border, Piketail silenced everyone with a hiss.

"I smell a water vole nearby. Everybody give me some space."

He was already in a hunter's crouch when Prickleclaw cuffed him roughly over the ear.

"You've only been a warrior for a day," the ginger tabby growled, showing his pointed teeth, "This is a border patrol and I'm the leader of it. Get back in line! Since you're so keen to hunt, I'll make sure Rainstep sends you out on a solo hunting trip when we get back."

Furious from Prickleclaw's stinging words, Piketail bristled and stuck out his tongue childishly when the older warrior wasn't looking.

"Prickleclaw's just looking for a reason to tell you off," Acornwhisker whispered into his friend's ear, "I'll go hunting with you later."

Though few in RiverClan would admit it, prey was scarce, even with the approach of New-leaf. The river hadn't risen much in its banks, and though it was completely thawed, the lake wasn't teeming with fish as it usually was by this time. Piketail's suggestion was a valid one, but he had been too pushy about it. Many cats seemed to think he was loud-mouthed and arrogant. He saw himself as proud maybe, but never arrogant. Who wouldn't be proud to be the son of a great leader in a strong clan?

The ShadowClan border came within sight of the RiverClan cats. They quickly marked the boundaries and were about to return to camp when a snarky meow stopped them in their tracks.

"Well, well, well, the little fishies are running back home already. They must be scared," a scrawny black tom mocked from just across the border. He was a warrior named Slicktail, and with him were another warrior, Redfire, and an apprentice, Hawkpaw. Slicktail was infamous for causing problems at the border, and even though he'd been reported by both ThunderClan and RiverClan for being an upstart, ShadowClan did nothing about it, nor did they apologize for his behavior.

Piketail felt his anger welling up once again. Slicktail saw this and decided to directly attack him.

"Hey, if it isn't little…whatsyername…Fishiepaw, right?" he snickered, "Momma was right on the dot when she named you that."

Piketail sped towards the border, his claws stretched ready to strike the insolent ShadowClan tom, when he was hit in the side by a massive force. Prickleclaw had head butted him so hard, he caused the smaller tom to gasp for breath.

"You ought to spend another moon in the apprentice's den!" the RiverClan warrior snarled in Piketail's face, "Get up, we're going home."

Prickleclaw grabbed the dejected Piketail by the scruff and dragged him to his feet.

"Hee hee, little Fishiepaw is in trouble," Slicktail guffawed behind them, his laugh ringing in Piketail's ears like thunder.

Piketail's mother was long dead. She died before he even got to know her, when he and his sister were still kits. The joke about his momma struck a sour note in him, but he shouldn't have been so brash. Of course, in Piketail's mind, the only thing he could see was Slicktail pleading for life beneath his claws. Slicktail was nothing but dirt to him-he was sure that he could beat the mangy ShadowClan warrior any day. But, hanging from the jaws of Prickleclaw, he was going nowhere.

It had all happened so quickly. Piketail was still feeling dazed and angry when Prickleclaw dropped him unceremoniously next to the river. The huge ginger tabby flicked his tail for Acornwhisker and Lynxfur to take their leave. Both toms padded away, Acornwhisker shooting Piketail a sympathetic glance, while Lynxfur turned his head and sneezed nervously into his shoulder. Piketail was in for a telling off, and he wasn't the only one who knew.

Once the other two warriors were gone, Prickleclaw turned and faced the young warrior.

"Being a warrior doesn't mean your training is over," the large tom cat hissed, "You continue to learn day by day. Apprenticeship only taught you the basics. Having my sister as your mentor, I'm sure she taught you that."

Piketail was still a bit huffy about the older warrior injuring his pride, but he was forced to agree. Birdbelly always gave him wise advice. He nodded before Prickleclaw continued.

"You made both me and your clan look foolish today by caving into the bait Slicktail provided you. As you should know, some cats are unruly and cruel. They look for any chance to prove to you how weak you really are—

"He insulted my mother, my heritage!" Piketail interjected.

"Blood isn't everything!" Prickleclaw growled back, "I've seen Slicktail fight before, fought him myself actually, and I've seen you fight. Acorn to an oak, he would have beaten you silly. The only time blood matters is in battle, and that ShadowClan fox-heart was ready to spill yours from here to the Moonpool. Do us all a favor and try a little harder to live up to the name your father gave you."

Piketail was confused. What did his name have to do with being a great warrior? Prickleclaw seemed to sense this and he let out an irritated sigh.

"When a warrior is named with the ending '-tail', it symbolizes that cat's natural leadership. You don't realize it, but, being the son of Fallowstar, you set an example for every cat that's younger than you. Fallowstar believes that, someday, cats will follow you anywhere just by a flick of your tail. That's what your name means," Prickleclaw explained.

"Slicktail has '-tail' in his name also. Does that mean he's a natural leader too?" Piketail snorted back.

"Yes, it does. But just because a cat displays natural leadership does not mean that they will lead others down the right path," the senior warrior affirmed flatly.

Piketail felt the tiniest bit of respect for Prickleclaw grow in his chest as the larger tom flicked him over the ear.

"And if you're wondering what my name symbolizes, it means that I'm aggressive and intimidating, so when you inevitably go chat with your buddies later, tell them our talk was terrifying. Gotta keep up my reputation," the ginger tabby rumbled before jumping into the river with a hefty splash. Water danced up in a graceful arc and hovered in the air for a second before landing callously on top of the young gray warrior sitting on the bank.

Now soaked, Piketail didn't feel like returning to camp. Surely, word of his blunder at the border had already spread through the clan like a wildfire. Instead he sat down and began to groom himself, cleaning the dirt from his gray pelt.

"Gettin' hot for the mollies?" an impish, suggestive voice remarked from the bushes.

Piketail flattened his ears, recognizing the cat whom the voice belonged to as his close, albeit rather obnoxious, friend Swallowstorm. The underbrush rattled as the black and white tom cat slid out into the open, his blue eyes glittering with laughter.

"Better try harder than that, 'cuz I'm some pretty stiff competition," the young warrior winked at Piketail.

Swallowstorm was an average-sized tom with rippling muscles and a sleek coat of fur. He was a few moons older than Piketail, but younger than Acornwhisker. All three had trained together, though Acornwhisker and Swallowstorm had been made warriors first. Swallowstorm was known for being brash and making inappropriate comments. He had always been the one getting into trouble, and that's why Piketail liked him. Whenever he felt he needed a break from his duties he could rely on Swallowstorm to cover for him. Now the black and white tom sat down next to Piketail, giving him a harsh nudge.

"Speaking of ladies, now that you're a warrior, you got an eye on any of 'em?" Swallowstorm winked again, "Just so I can tell you how good they are in the nest, of course. Can't wait to take a swing at that lovely little sis of yours, now that she's a warrior too."

"Don't even think about it," Piketail growled at him, though he knew Swallowstorm was only joking.

"Too late!" the other tom meowed matter-of-factly, "I've already done  _lots_  of thinking about it. I won't go into the details though."

Piketail let out a playful hiss and cuffed his friend over the ear.

"What did he do now?" sighed a different voice from behind them. Acornwhisker pushed himself through the reeds towards them, before joining them near the edge of the river.

"He hasn't done anything yet," Piketail answered, shooting Swallowstorm a look. The patched tom flashed him an innocent smile.

"I waited for you back at camp, and when you didn't return, I figured I should come looking for you thinking maybe Prickleclaw tried to drown you or something," Acornwhisker explained.

"I'm fine," Piketail reassured him, rolling his eyes, "Besides the fact that Swallowstorm apparently has dirty thoughts about my sister."

Acornwhisker's green eyes widened in surprise, but, after a moment's thought, that seemed pretty typical of Swallowstorm.

"How's your lady, Acornwhisker?" the lusty black and white tom cut in, waggling his ears childishly.

The level-headed brown tabby sighed reproachfully, "Hormonal. It's like finding out that you're expecting means you can start acting like a total fish-brain. I love Sandystream to death, but I'm really worried for us. What if something happens to her or the kits? Or what if having the kits splits us apart? What if I'm a bad father?"

Piketail rested his tail on Acornwhisker's shoulder, "You'll be a great father. You're kind and brave and a loyal mate. If any cat is cut out for parenting kits, it's you."

Worry shimmered in Acornwhisker's eyes but he relaxed a little. He glanced back at Piketail and asked, "When do you think you'll find a mate and have kits? I don't want to be the only one, and though I'm sure Swallowstorm will knock up plenty of she-cats, who can rely on him to actually stick with one and settle down?"

"Hey! I'm right here, ya know!" the patched tom meowed with dismay.

Both Piketail and Acornwhisker shot him a look which quickly shut him up, before returning to the conversation.

"To answer your question," Piketail said to Acornwhisker, "I'm not really interested in anyone right now."

"You can't be serious!" Swallowstorm interjected, "What about Ibiswing or Jadesong? They're both young and pretty… well, I'd describe Ibiswing as more sleek, and Jadesong as more stunning. Or there's Dovewhisper! I know she's a bit of a cougar, but at least she's so quiet that you wouldn't have to listen to her talk about her emotions all the time. Oh, and Reedpool, she's a bit on the plain side, but I caught a glance at her walking away once, and boy did she have a nice-

"Whoa up there, lion!" Acornwhisker interrupted with a hiss, "I know what was about to come out of your muzzle just then was definitely not a comment on my sister's… er, posterior. You know what happens to a tom that remarks about Reedpool around me? I might just take him down a notch in the masculinity department."

"Alright, I got the message," Swallowstorm retorted, "All in good fun. You two are way too protective of your sisters. They can get with whoever they wanna get with, and it ain't any of your business."

"It's my business if whoever Reedpool gets with is somebody like you," Acornwhisker replied icily, "Besides, I think she has her sights set on Hemlocktail, and I rather think he likes her too, so you're both out of luck."

"Well, if perchance you are a sucky father, at least Sandystream will be back on the market," Swallowstorm remarked back, clearly stung by Acornwhisker's previous comment. The brown tabby glared at him and looked as though he was about to say something when he turned away, thinking better of it. Swallowstorm, seeing that he had won and not wanting to risk pushing Acornwhisker to follow through with his previous threat about destroying the mouthy warrior's tomliness, smartly decided to change the subject, "Maybe once your kits reach six moons, I'll get to mentor one of them. Maybe Piketail too!"

"I'd almost be okay with Piketail," Acornwhisker huffed, those his eyes glittered humorously, "He only thinks he's next-in-line for deputy— which he very well could be— but certainly Fallowstar wouldn't want an impressionable kit to be taught by a sister-stealing, tom lion."

This time it was Piketail who countered first, "Whoever said I'm a ruthless, RiverClan tycoon with leadership ambitions?"

Acornwhisker grinned back at him, "It's obvious, with Fallowstar being your father, and the way you tried to take over patrol today."

Piketail had never really considered himself as a cat after power. Of course, as a kit, he had dreamed of someday being leader, but what kit didn't dream that? Now, with Prickleclaw's explanation of his warrior name ringing in the back of his head, leadership didn't seem like such a far cry for him. He was a skilled battler, and a good swimmer, and other cats liked him. Who was there to stand in his way? Really, was there any quality that he didn't already possess, that would make him a more perfect fit for the job?

_Pikestar_ … the name reverberated with the very image of strength. All he needed was an apprentice!

Piketail licked his lips, tasting cool air and salty sweat as he released a breath he had not known he was holding.

"Maybe someday I  _will_  become deputy," he announced.

Acornwhisker looked at him with an expression that Piketail did not understand, though he picked up a mixture of surprise and… was that sympathy? Did his friend not think he was capable of achieving leadership? Swallowstorm just gave them both blank glances.

Piketail didn't say anything more, but in his chest burned an insatiable desire for justice. He would prove himself to Acornwhisker, and to anyone else who had doubts about him. He would do whatever it took to become a great leader, one the likes of which RiverClan had never seen, and of which they would never see again. In one simple moment he had gone from not caring about leadership at all, to desperately aching for success in this new undertaking. He would talk to Fallowstar about an apprentice as soon as he got the chance.

Many miles above him, StarClan saw Piketail's ambition and hung their heads in distress. They knew that RiverClan would never see him as leader. In fact, it was rather uncertain if, in the coming moons, RiverClan itself would ever be seen again. There was really nothing they could do to change that.

Hot Newleaf sun beat down on the RiverClan camp, as it edged its way towards the far horizon. Piketail, Swallowstorm, and Acornwhisker returned home with a meager supply of prey. Swallowstorm had caught a sickly-looking perch, Piketail a few minnows, and Acornwhisker a scrawny mouse. It was not enough to fill all the hungry RiverClan mouths. Though Acornwhisker didn't say anything, Piketail could sense his friend's worry. The brown tabby warrior had a mate and kits on the way; he had reasons for his anxiety.

To make matters worse, Piketail noticed Baybreeze, a queen, ushering Lynxfur, her mate, towards the medicine den, all well trying to hold back her three young kits that were mewling for attention. The gray tabby tom had his head hung, and he stopped every few steps to cough violently or sneeze. His pale eyes were caked with grime and his coat was covered in sweat.

"What's wrong with him?" Piketail asked, to no one in particular, "He seemed okay earlier."

Acornwhisker sent him a sad stare, "I heard someone coughing in the medicine den when I got back from patrol earlier, and Clovershade told me it was Pale-eye. Apparently, he coughed through his entire border patrol this morning and collapsed. He almost had to be carried back. I wonder if it's a late bout of Greencough."

For once Swallowstorm was serious, "That's the last thing we need right now."

"I'll go talk to Echosky and find out what's going on," Piketail announced, striding towards the medicine den.

Acornwhisker and Swallowstorm watched him go with concern in their eyes, but the muscular gray warrior didn't look back.

Standing just outside Echosky's den, Piketail could hear the raucous hacking of two cats, plus the distorted murmur of RiverClan's medicine cat. The gray tom took a hesitant step inside. A sharp scent of illness assailed his nostrils and he held in a gag. Clearly Lynxfur was much sicker than he could imagine. A small silver tabby was bent over the craggy shoulders of Piketail's clan mate. She turned her attention to Piketail as soon as she caught sight of him.

"What's wrong? Are you ill?" Echosky inquired, scurrying to his side and pressing her nose to his side to check for a fever.

"No," Piketail responded, feeling a little awkward, "I was just checking on Lynxfur. He was with me on patrol today and he seemed alright. Do you know what's wrong?"

Echosky stared at him for a moment with a mixture of irritation and forced patience lingering in her blue eyes. She took a deep breath before answering him, "I do not know for sure what sickness he has, though it could be the beginnings of Greencough. Your concern is noble Piketail, but I'd appreciate if you'd steer clear of the medicine den in the future, unless you are injured or sick. RiverClan needs every able-bodied warrior it can have, and I don't want to risk other cats falling ill by coming into contact with those already infected. Both Lynxfur and Pale-eye will be just fine. Please have some faith in me, and give it time."

Feeling a bit stung by her cold words, Piketail held in a growl of frustration, merely grunting out a brief, "Of course," before he left the den. He stayed close by for just a moment longer to hear Echosky muttering to herself.

"StarClan, please send me a sign. What are you doing to my clan mates? Struggling through Newleaf when food should be plentiful, and now this strange disease. It's not like anything I've ever seen before. Last time we spoke, everything seemed well. Please, send help to my clan."

Piketail felt frozen in horror. Why did Echosky sound so desperate? There was something going on that no cat knew about, and it seemed as though things would only be getting worse in the near future. In the sky above, starry-furred warriors woefully nodded their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact #1: Dovewhisper and Ibiswing both already had kits. Dovewhisper had Hailpaw and Deltapaw with Hemlocktail and Ibiswing had Mistpaw and Oatpaw with Goldenpatch. Dovewhisper and Hemlocktail "broke up" after Hemlocktail developed a crush on Reedpool, but they waited until their kits were apprentices before they made it public. Ibiswing wanted kits at a young age and asked Goldenpatch to father them. They were never really an official couple.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: Swallowstorm has never actually had relations with a she-cat yet (though he really wants to!).


	3. Chapter 2: Heavy is the Cost

CHAPTER 2

Seedshine flailed in her mossy nest, scattering tiny green scraps all around the nursery. Two long, cold moons were finally near their end. It was the middle of the night, but time beckoned for her to finally give birth to her long-awaited babies.

Something stirred next to her and through hazy vision she saw Fernberry's bright green eyes peering down at her anxiously.

"The kits…" Seedshine murmured before a tremor went down her side. Fernberry nodded and then disappeared, probably to get Wolfeye, the ShadowClan medicine cat, and his apprentice. Throughout this whole ordeal, Fernberry had been the kindest– more supportive than Seedshine's pregnant sister, who even now lay purposefully ignorant in the farthest corner of the nursery.

Before Seedshine could register anything else, the den became a flurry of activity. Dewsong and Lilypool shepherded their kittens out into the middle of camp to stay out of the way, though the two older queens cast Seedshine glares of disdain. Whitestream, Seedshine's sister, waddled heavily out with a look equally as contemptuous. The dark face of Wolfeye appeared above the laboring queen, pushing cool, wet moss towards her muzzle. Another contraction wracked Seedshine's body and she felt the warm paw of the medicine cat press gently into her side. Fernberry sat next to the lumbering medicine cat, though she was round with kits herself. Behind the two of them, Seedshine could distinguish the annoyed growling of her mate, Snaketooth, just outside the cozy den.

Only a few minutes passed, though it seemed like a lifetime, when Wolfeye shoved a stick up by Seedshine's face and meowed in her ear, "The first one is coming. Bite onto the stick and push."

She didn't see the faint look of worry cross the medicine cat's face as she followed his directions. She was very young, not even a year old yet, and still not quite fully grown, though a fairly healthy queen.

Seedshine bit down onto the stick just as a massive wave of pain cascaded down her whole body. She wanted to cry out but couldn't with the stick in her mouth. Something warm and sticky tumbled down onto the moss near her tail, but she was too weary to look up. Her vision became one big blur and all she could see were movements of figures around her. Sounds seemed to get louder and louder, and at the same time to make less sense. Suddenly two huge eyes were glittering in front of her own, with what emotion, she could not tell. One of the eyes was deep coppery amber, the other a clear blue. Wolfeye's rumbling voice came so close to her straining ears it seemed to reverberate through her skull.

"Stay awake Seedshine!  _Stay awake_!"

More minutes passed and Seedshine remained barely on the verge of consciousness, when the second kit passed through her body and into the world. If it were physically possible, the second birth was more painful than the first and the cream-colored queen passed out for a split second.

"One more!" hissed Wolfeye to her, "You're almost done."

She couldn't feel her kittens suckling, but her whole body ached so much, Seedshine figured there wasn't anything else to feel but agony during kit-birth.

An hour or so more passed by, though now the time flew by like a hawk after its next meal. The third kitten squeezed effortlessly into life and Seedshine could now discern the sounds of the other cats rasping away at her baby, cleaning it and helping it to breathe.

"My babies," she whispered, trying to lift her head to see, but as she did so a tiredness swept over her that she could not fight.

The last thing she heard was Wolfeye's voice soothing her, "You can sleep now Seedshine, it's over."

Then she drifted into unconsciousness.

When Seedshine awoke, it was Sunhigh. Another night had passed since she had given birth. She meandered back into wakefulness, unaware of how long she had been asleep, her body still aching tremendously. It took her a moment to become conscious of her surroundings, and it was then that she noticed something was wrong.

With an adrenaline burst of energy, she heaved her head up to gaze at the curve of her belly. In the place where three little kittens should have been, there was nothing.

Seedshine felt like screaming, but all she could muster was a strangled gasp, "My kits! Where…?"

She was so caught up in her sudden panic that she didn't notice Fernberry's gentle presence. Whitestream and Dewsong weren't in the nursery, but Lilypool was curled up with her kits in the corner and Fernberry seemed to have been laying pressed up against Seedshine's back. The pretty white queen startled at the sound of the distraught mother's voice. She jumped to her paws, giving Seedshine a soft lick between the ears.

Seedshine turned to stare at the other she-cat, horror in her eyes, her mind racing.

"Fernberry…my kits…where are they?" she rasped.

Fernberry gave her a reassuring nuzzle, "Let's get you to Wolfeye. He will explain everything. Can you walk?"

Seedshine struggled to her paws, her head spinning with a frightening combination of emotions. With Fernberry's help, she took the necessary steps across the ShadowClan camp and into the medicine den. Inside, a large black figure sat hunched over a brown tabby apprentice, the head of a thorn held tightly between the figure's teeth. In one quick yank, the barbed thorn lay on the ground, free of the apprentice's paw. A rumbling voice growled from the silhouette.

"Now lick your paw until the bleeding stops, and do it outside of my den!"

With a surprised hiss, the apprentice, Hawkpaw, scrambled to his paws and dashed out of the medicine cat's den as fast as he could.

The shadowy form then turned to face the she-cats standing at the entrance of the den. He was a big jet-black tom cat with mismatched amber and blue eyes. A blaze of white fur stood out glowingly on his forehead. Scars crisscrossed his broad chest, wandering up his muscular shoulders. He had the build of a warrior. This was Wolfeye; despite his battle-ready appearance he was ShadowClan's medicine cat. His apprentice must have been out caring for the elders or gathering herbs, as she was not present in the den. When Wolfeye saw that the cat accompanied by Fernberry was Seedshine, his eyes widened before swiftly darkening with unreadable sentiment.

"Thank you for bringing her here Fernberry. You are dismissed," the medicine cat dipped his head gratefully. Once Fernberry was gone, he turned to Seedshine. Before the flustered queen could open her mouth, he spoke her thoughts.

"You are looking for your kits," he lowered his head, "I'm am sincerely sorry to have to tell you this, but…you have no kits."

Seedshine's jaw dropped, her body flinching as though she had been struck. She ventured a timid question, "W-what…what do you mean?"

"The third kit was born dead. The other two suffocated in your birth canal. They had already suffered severe brain damage and their hearts stopped shortly after they were cleaned. You fell unconscious after your last kit was birthed. You had lost a lot of blood. I've let you rest for the past day and a half," the tom meowed gently.

A sob shook Seedshine's body. Through sorrowful heaves she whimpered, "May I see them?"

Wolfeye looked up at her again, his eyes glittering with hurt as he explained, "I'm afraid not. Snaketooth, Amberstar, and I buried them before the other kits could see. As far as the little ones know, your kits were given a special mission by StarClan that required their presence up in SilverPelt."

"You didn't even have a vigil for them?" fury climbed into Seedshine's voice, her weariness abandoned as cold reality sank in. Her shoulders jumped in chorus with pained sniffles.

"I am very sorry Seedshine. I discussed things with Snaketooth before doing anything and he said that burying them as soon as possible was the best option. He said he hoped it wouldn't hurt as much for you not to see them."

"What does he know about anything?!" Seedshine shrieked before curling into a ball on the floor of the den, whimpering, "I didn't even get to say goodbye…"

Wolfeye took a step towards the grieving queen, "Seedshine, you're still practically a kit yourself. Your body simply couldn't handle the strain of pregnancy at so young an age. Give it some time; once you've grown a bit you can try for kits again." His tail aimed to land soothingly on her shoulder, but the queen smacked it out of the way with bare claws. When she met his gaze, her eyes were blazing with the wrath of a thousand angry mothers.

"Get. Out," she hissed.

Wolfeye dipped his head, "If you need anything-"

"Get OUT!"

The burly ex-warrior turned tail and fled.

She hadn't meant for any of this to happen.

She had been seven moons old when little Snakepaw and Falconpaw toddled into the apprentice's den. Snakepaw had been hopelessly shy, Falconpaw full of confidence and vigor, leading his brother along like a lost kit. The first time Snakepaw laid eyes on the thin, graceful Seedpaw, he couldn't look away. His mouth started to slowly drop open until Redpaw and Whitepaw nudged the unknowing cream she-cat and all three started giggling.

Whitepaw whispered teasingly into Seedpaw's ear, "I think he likes you."

Embarrassed by the she-cat apprentices, Snakepaw turned his head in shame, his cheeks burning. He would talk to Seedpaw later when her sisters weren't around.

It took a few days before he worked up the nerve to talk to the pretty she-cat, and when he did, he melted into her kindly presence. She was so sweet, and so beautiful. He thought he loved her.

Two and a half moons passed by and Snakepaw and Seedpaw were head-over-paws for each other. With Seedpaw's final assessment coming up in a couple weeks, Snakepaw asked to see her one night by the lakeshore, while their clanmates were asleep. They snuck out, timing their escapes so any cat still awake or guarding camp wouldn't be suspicious. It was a half-moon, but there was no possibility of them being caught. Wolfeye had stayed behind because Dewsong had gone into labor before he could leave, and the RiverClan medicine cat, Echosky, always cut through WindClan's turf to return home. With the moon only half its size, the stars shimmered exceptionally brightly, even though the clouds of Leaf-bare had begun to skitter across the slowly-freezing sky.

"Seedpaw, you know I love you, right?" Snakepaw had asked, fear apparent in his eyes as he said the three words he had wanted to say since he first saw her.

Seedpaw reached forward and touched her nose to his, "Of course! And I love you too."

She padded closer to his warmth and they both sat facing the lake, their tails twining as they watched the stars. There was a peaceful silence, broken by a question from Snakepaw.

"When we're warriors, do you think we'll be mates?"

Seedpaw flashed him a confused look, "I-I thought we already were. Do we have to be warriors to be mates?"

Snakepaw let out a little chuckle, "Well, mates have kits together, and apprentices don't have kits."

"Who said you have to have kits to be mates?" Seedpaw rebutted, flashing him a grin.

Three days later and Seedpaw began to feel strange inside. She was a bit nauseas and sluggish, her paws felt like tree trunks, and her head ached tremendously. She tottered through a border patrol, thankful that hunting and fighting weren't involved. When she returned to camp, she headed straight to Wolfeye in the medicine den.

The black-furred tom sniffed her sides and touched his paws to her paw pads and flank.

When he revealed her to be pregnant, the ground seemed to drop from beneath her. She leaned over and vomited onto the dirt. Not only was she still just an apprentice, but every day the weather grew colder, and prey scarcer.

Wolfeye gave her some herbs: a pinch of lavender stems to calm the shock, some watermint to ease her stomach, and a bit of witch hazel ointment which he rubbed into her shoulders to give her some energy. Then he left her in his den to find Snakepaw and see if Amberstar was in camp. He returned moments later to retrieve Seedpaw, still seated wide-eyed and silent. She followed him shakily to the leader's den.

Inside, Snakepaw was already there, pressed close to the floor, his eyes scanning the den nervously, afraid to look at Amberstar sitting rigidly in her moss nest not a tail-length away. The leader was a middle-aged, muscular she-cat with a mottled tortoiseshell pelt and piercing amber eyes. She was known to be firm, though not terribly strict, and caring of her clanmates. The position of leadership had been granted to her for her ruthless fighting abilities and her loyal heart. It was the first of these two qualities that set Snakepaw on edge. Surely he was in trouble to be brought to the leader's den.

If it were possible for Snakepaw's eyes to widen more, they did at the appearance of his mate entering the den, Wolfeye behind her.

"What have you come to speak to me about?" Amberstar asked, her voice stern.

Seedpaw lowered her head to the ground, her lips clamped tightly shut, unwilling to speak. Thankfully, Wolfeye did it for her.

"Seedpaw is pregnant."

Snakepaw's jaw fell open, but Seedpaw didn't look to see his reaction. She just stood there, bracing for the fury of her leader. When Amberstar responded, there was no anger in her voice though.

"Then we will plan on assessing her later this week. I'm sure that Patchbelly will have no qualms with her becoming a warrior a little early. From what I hear, Seedpaw is quite advanced in her training. The only issue I see occurring is her naming ceremony. Seedpaw, do you wish to have your ceremony immediately after your assessment, granted you pass, of course, or would you like to wait for your sisters?"

For the first time, Seedpaw raised her eyes to look at her leader. Amberstar's expression was blank and unrevealing; the apprentice could not read any emotion in her gaze. It was as though the news of Seedpaw's pregnancy wasn't a surprise.

"I'll wait for my sisters," Seedpaw murmured somberly, still not casting a glance at Snakepaw.

"Very well," Amberstar said, "Though I have one more question before you leave. I can either announce this news to the clan as a whole or I can keep my mouth shut and let it spread through the clan like wildfire as all clan gossip does. Which do you prefer?"

Seedpaw swallowed hard, trying to drown her sentiments, though the shame she felt at her…condition, was far from going away.

"Just tell the clan and get it over with," she muttered, a tinge of disgust in her voice.

Amberstar nodded before rising to her paws. She brushed past Wolfeye and the two apprentices, stopping to whisper in Seedpaw's ear.

"Wise choice. Do not worry, I will be right beside you."

The tortoiseshell leader whisked out of her den, followed by Wolfeye and the apprentices, and leapt to the branch where she made her announcements, calling the clan together. Seedpaw sat at the base of the tree looking up, her belly churning.

"I have an announcement to make," Amberstar meowed from her perch, "Seedpaw is pregnant and will bare new kits for ShadowClan. As she is an apprentice, yet nearing her warrior ceremony, she will be assessed this week, though she has chosen to wait for her sisters to finish their training as well before she receives her warrior name. That is all the news I have. You are dismissed."

Seedpaw felt the hot eyes of the clan searing into her back. There were whispers passed behind her, though she could not make out what her clanmates were saying. Only one approached her, and it was Whitepaw. Her sister's yellow eyes flashed with malice and repugnance.

"I can't believe you would do this Seedpaw. I thought you were better than that. Mom would be disappointed," Whitepaw hissed in her ear.

When she entered the apprentice's den that night, no one spoke. Every apprentice, besides Snakepaw, cast her a disgusted look.

"I'm sorry," the brown tabby tom mouthed to her.

"It's not your fault," she replied loudly, before flopping graciously into her nest.

A few days later, Seedpaw passed her assessment, though not with flying colors. Her performance was undoubtedly aided by the herbs Wolfeye had given her so she could stay on her paws.

A week later, she became Seedshine, Amberstar honoring her for her fortitude and honesty. Next to her, Redpaw became Redfire, and Whitepaw became Whitestream. As the clan cheered their names, Redfire and Whitestream held their heads high, but Seedshine stared at the ground. Redfire apologized to her after their vigil with Whitestream far out of earshot.

Two more weeks passed and she moved to the nursery, her belly swelling. Though the ground was frozen and prey hard to find, ShadowClan still found reason to celebrate as Snakepaw received his warrior name, Snaketooth, alongside his brother Falconpaw, who became Falconfall. It was then that Wolfeye took on a new apprentice, Mousepaw, and two more queens also announced their pregnancies: Fernberry who was having the kits of Mudtalon, and Whitestream, who had hurried herself to the nursery with Volestripe's kits. It was clear now that her disdain was the product of jealousy.

In the nursery, the queens Dewsong and Lilypool kept up cold postures, the former more-so than the latter. Seedshine heard Dewsong comment to her mate on one of his visits that she "hadn't had  _her_  first litter until she was nearly four years old". It was a clear jab at Seedshine, seeing as the newly expecting she-cat was barely over one year.

Her only solace came in Fernberry when the white queen moved into the nursery. Fernberry was the first cat to openly admit that she didn't see an issue with an apprentice becoming pregnant. Her kindness made Seedshine feel the first notion of excitement at her own kits on the way. It was then that the rejection she had felt transformed into pride that she was going to be a mother. She looked forward to these kits. Fernberry and her would often discuss names and thoughts about fur and eye colors. Now Seedshine couldn't wait for her babies to be born; she wanted to meet them so badly.

Then this ray of light was snatched cruelly away from her. Her kittens were dead. All of her mental and physical suffering was for nothing. She didn't want to get out of her nest anymore; StarClan could take her for all she cared, even though she knew her precious ones would not be waiting for her there. They had never truly lived, so they could never truly die and spend their given moons within the ranks of SilverPelt.

Seedshine spent the next two weeks in Wolfeye's den. She barely nibbled on any of the prey brought to her, sometimes she even threw it up. Sleep seldom put a dent in the time she lay there, because when it came, she would wake from it, startled and screaming for her kits. She wasted the hours staring at the wall or silently watching Wolfeye and Mousepaw sort herbs. The medicine cat would point to a plant and his apprentice would respond with the name of the herb and its medicinal uses. Seedshine even picked up a couple of things just from observation.

No one but Snaketooth, Fernberry, and Wolfeye would try to speak to her, but when they did she wouldn't respond. Wolfeye told the others that she was suffering from depression and shock. He gave her parsley to dry up any milk she had produced, and more lavender stems, this time mixed with hornbeam. Though she began to feel better, it was more out of stubbornness that Seedshine would not reciprocate any conversation.

It was the next time that Fernberry waddled in, her kits due at any moment, that Wolfeye finally put his foot down. Mousepaw was out gathering sage and marigold, so the ebony ex-warrior saw his chance to let loose his frustration.

"What are you doing out of the nursery?" he growled at the heavily pregnant queen as she squeezed into the medicine den.

"Visiting Seedshine. What does it look like I'm doing?" she retorted.

Wolfeye took a deep breath before answering, enunciating every word, "No. That is enough."

He stalked over to Seedshine, grabbing her by the scruff and hauling her to her paws. The cream she-cat let out a yowl of dismay, but Wolfeye was persistent. Fernberry watched angrily, but in her round state, was unable to do anything. Finally, Seedshine submitted and sat upright. Wolfeye shot them both a cold look.

"Seedshine, you cannot stay in here any longer. It has been more than two weeks. My supplies of lavender and hornbeam are dwindling, and you've wasted what little prey the clan has brought back to camp for you. Someday, maybe very soon, a cat will fall ill, and I will not have all the herbs I need to care for them; you will most likely catch the sickness. Now since you have practically starved yourself, the chance of your body fighting off an illness is slim to none. You would die, and it would be on my paws. It is my duty as a medicine cat to keep my clanmates healthy, and aside from needing a bit of fresh-kill in your stomach, you are fine. You are not my apprentice, and I cannot have you be in here unless it is a dire emergency," here he paused, sighed deeply, and relaxed his shoulders, "I understand the claws of grief are sharp. It is even more dismal that your loss was your litter of kits. You know that I must always do what is in the best interest of my clanmates, and you know that I care very much for you. I have been here for you throughout this period of sadness. ShadowClan needs you now. ShadowClan needs you to do what is best for  _them_. They need you to be the best warrior you can be. Your life has barely begun, and I will not let you waste it away."

The medicine cat was cut off as Snaketooth pushed his way into the medicine den.

"I heard a yowl. Is everything okay?" he asked worriedly.

Wolfeye nodded, flicking his ears toward Seedshine, seated firmly with her head up and her amber eyes glowing. Snaketooth stepped towards her and placed a gentle lick on her forehead, curling his body around her in a loving embrace.

"I'm so glad you are alright. Are you feeling better?" he inquired, giving her a look of concern. She nodded and leaned into his warmth.

"I love you Seedshine," he whispered into her ear, "I will never leave you, my sweet. Everything will be just fine."

Fernberry smiled behind them, happy for her friend's change of heart.

Wolfeye grunted to get their attention, a slight grin arching across his muzzle, "Seedshine, I have something for you to do besides returning to your normal duties."

"Anything for you, Wolfeye," the cream tabby said—the first time she had spoken in days. Her voice was not dry or cracked, but strong and confident. Wolfeye dipped his head to her.

"Fernberry is very close to having her kits. Will you stay in the nursery with her and come get me and Mousepaw when she goes into labor? She would also probably like to have a friend close at paw when the time arrives," Wolfeye requested. He looked to Fernberry for approval and the white queen nodded, her eyes alight.

"Of course I will," Seedshine accepted, untangling herself from Snaketooth to give Fernberry a gracious nudge.

Wolfeye flicked his tail, "Very well then. Now off with you."

The three warriors headed out of the medicine den, Seedshine trailing behind. She turned to look back at the mismatched eyes of the medicine cat.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Anything for you, Seedshine."

Then she was taking her first steps back onto the crunchy pine needles of the ShadowClan clearing. Outside the air was cool and crisp, the scents of a quickly approaching Newleaf evident on the breeze. Her first destination was the fresh-kill pile. It wasn't particularly full, but then again it was nearly Sunhigh and dawn hunting patrols would be returning soon with more. She grabbed a crow for herself and a robin for Fernberry.

Later that afternoon, Fernberry started having contractions. Seedshine dashed to the medicine den to retrieve Wolfeye. She lay next to the birthing queen as Fernberry pushed through the deliveries of five kittens—two she-cats and three toms. They were all healthy, including their mother, who had the strength to groom and name them afterwards alongside her mate, Mudtalon. The firstborn, a white she-kit, was named Shinekit after Seedshine. The cream queen sniffled happily at the honor her friend had given to her. The other she-kit, her fur being a very dark gray-brown with thick raven-colored stripes, was named Blackkit. Two of the three toms were white with brown splotches; the first, with large brown tabby patches was named Dapplekit, and the second had a brown forehead patch, ears, and tail, and a few small scattered spots, and was named Cloudkit. The final tom-kit was an all-over brown tabby, named Molekit.

Seedshine shook with a tornado of emotions. Her heart still ached for her own kits; no amount of joy would ever fully take that away. Yet she found peace in the five new lives that StarClan had graced to her closest friend. Maybe what Snaketooth had told her in the medicine den was true: everything would be just fine.

Above ShadowClan's pine forests, the stars blinked into sight one by one as nighttime washed over the lake territories. They seemed to whisper a message of warning—the trouble was not over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact #1: Using math and the details from the story, it can be approximated that Seedshine was born the day of a new moon. I have a timeline for the story drawn up, in which Day 20 is the full moon/gathering, the (waxing) half-moon would then probably be Day 14, and Seedshine gives birth on Day 2. Knowing that, then Day 9 in the story was probably the new moon, and Day 2 the (waning) half-moon. If Seedshine was 9.5 moons old when she got pregnant (which is mentioned in the chapter), then she was 11.5 moons old when she gave birth on Day 2, a waning half-moon. Following Warriors logic that a moon = a month, then that means the day she conceived, which isn't on the timeline, was probably also a waning half-moon. Adding 1 half-moon to Seedshine's age on Day 2 (11.5 moons), would make her a full year old. From the numbers above, we know that Day 9 is a half-moon later, and also the new moon, so Seedshine must have been born on a new moon. Ok, probably not, but a neat fun fact.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: If the fact before tells us that the day Seedshine gave birth was the half-moon, and the half-moon is the day the Medicine Cats share tongues with StarClan, then why was Wolfeye there? Because, looking at the beginning of the chapter, we know that Seedshine gave birth in the "middle of the night" so probably sometime around Moonhigh, or midnight, maybe even later than that. Wolfeye was already back from the Moonpool when she went into labor.
> 
> Fun Fact #3: Biologically speaking, kits in the nursery could get pregnant (at 4 months old), so an apprentice getting pregnant would actually probably have happened quite frequently in the Clans, though it is never mentioned. It seemed like one of those things that would be kind of taboo to the warrior cats so I really wanted to write about it.
> 
> Fun Fact #4: In this story, an apprentice's training lasts about 4-6 moons depending on the clan, the apprentice's ability, and the overall state of the clans as a whole.


	4. Chapter 3: Not All Battles Are External

CHAPTER 3

Stormpaw leapt at the small black tom in front of her, arms outstretched. As she collided with her opponent, she forced the other cat into a tumble, rolling forward until their combined weight pulled them to a stop. Unfortunately, she was stuck beneath her ebony-furred adversary. She didn't need to plan her next move as she could tell the cat above her was hesitating, unsure of himself. With one lean movement, Stormpaw kicked him away from her. Had she been fighting a heavier warrior, this wouldn't have worked, but her opponent was not only younger than her, but also small for his age. Throwing him off had been too easy.

The other apprentice, Olivepaw, gasped for breath, sucking in air as Stormpaw rolled back onto her toes, ready to continue the mock battle. Though Olivepaw was only maybe a moon and a half younger than her, he wasn't a great fighter. He preferred keeping the peace as opposed to skirmishes, and was a great hunter, but he still needed to properly learn how to protect his clan should he have no other choice. Fighting with Stormpaw though? That was definitely not the best option—Olivepaw didn't stand a chance.

Stormpaw had already received four moons of training and probably only had one more moon to go. She was also one of ThunderClan's most talented combatants. Hunting and patrolling she could handle, but it was in the heat of battle that her true gifts shone through. She could doubtless ace many of the full-fledged warriors in a fight.

Letting Olivepaw catch his breath, despite an audible growl of annoyance from her mentor, Cedarstorm, Stormpaw sized up the smaller apprentice, watching him for signs of a developing strategy. Olivepaw's ice green eyes only flickered with uncertainty.

"Alright, wait a minute!" Cedarstorm called a halt from the sidelines. He was a large dark brown tabby, the most senior warrior in ThunderClan, and also a fierce fighter, though he could be a bit impatient at times. Of course, he was also very experienced, having trained many apprentices and fought in many battles. The scarcity of battle scars littering his pelt was proof of his abilities. He lumbered over to the two apprentices, putting a pause to their training.

Since Olivepaw's mentor, Browndapple, wasn't available, Cedarstorm had offered to help teach the young tom more about battle strategy. Stormpaw knew her own ability well, but she wasn't conceited about it; she didn't think that Cedarstorm pitting Olivepaw against her was her mentor's greatest idea. Wordlessly, she promised to go a little easy on her den mate, wanting to see the diligent, inky-furred tom get stronger too. So far though, Olivepaw hadn't proved that he had any fighting skill; he clearly doubted himself.

"Olivepaw," Cedarstorm grunted, interrupting Stormpaw's thoughts, "In a real battle, the enemy is not going to let you catch your breath."

"I know," Olivepaw sighed, his head down, "I just don't know what to do."

"Well," the massive tabby tom rumbled, "You can start by considering the facts. Stormpaw is stronger, faster, and cannier than you. She can tell what move you're going to make before you make it."

"In other words, I will never be able to beat her," Olivepaw retorted irritably.

Ignoring the black tom's sass, Cedarstorm continued, "However, Stormpaw  _can_  still be taken by surprise."

The words were barely out of her mentor's mouth when Stormpaw suddenly found herself pinned to the ground beneath Cedarstorm's paws. Grinning, he let her back up before adding, "See?"

"So, I just have to keep surprising her?" Olivepaw asked, confusion apparent in his voice.

"Yes," Stormpaw's mentor confirmed, "Also, you shouldn't aim to pin her. She'll just knock the breath out of you again. An enemy doesn't need to be immobilized for you to win the battle—they only need to be overwhelmed enough to turn tail and retreat. Now try again."

Cedarstorm wandered back to his seat on the edge of the clearing, his amber eyes narrowed with anticipation. Stormpaw faced off against Olivepaw once more, her muscles falling easily into a crouch. Her den mate began to circle her, his hackles raised and tail bushing out. Stormpaw monitored his movements, waiting for him to decide what to do. If he chose to attack first, she would have the upper paw immediately.

Luckily, Olivepaw seemed to be aware of that tactic and lowered himself into a more defensive stance, still circling slowly. Now Stormpaw knew she would have to make the first attack. She started with a simple combination: a leap followed by a back kick. This was a classic ThunderClan move that worked best against larger and heavier cats, such as many in RiverClan. Olivepaw didn't fall for it, dashing away from Stormpaw before she could kick him. What Cedarstorm had said was right though—he wasn't as fast as Stormpaw, and she felt her hind paws brush up gently against his hips as he tried to rush away.

Then Olivepaw made a mistake. He attacked Stormpaw from behind before she could spin around to face him, but she countered him straightaway. Her tail came swatting into his face, blinding him. That was all the time she needed to spin on her front paws, her hind legs rearing up to clobber Olivepaw in the neck. The black tom was knocked to the side, his balance weak. Stormpaw turned on a dime and lunged at him, swiping his front paws out from under him, causing him to fall sideways. Before he could register what had happened, she was standing over him, one paw placed firmly on his shoulder, holding him down. Olivepaw lowered his head into the moss, eyes closed in defeat. Still, Stormpaw silently observed him, her paw still trapping him against the earth. As she expected, Olivepaw's eyes suddenly flew open as he vainly sought to burst upwards and throw Stormpaw off. She was ready for this, and all the other apprentice could do was squirm beneath her.

Once she was content that Olivepaw had given in, Stormpaw released him. Glowering over at Cedarstorm, the lanky, black apprentice hollered angrily at the burly tabby warrior.

"You said to take her by surprise! Well, I tried, and she wasn't surprised by it!"

Cedarstorm shook his head in frustration, "You used the oldest trick in the book. No knowledgeable ThunderClan cat is gonna fall for the 'play dead' move."

"I don't know how else to surprise her!" Olivepaw countered, his voice squeaking a little from exertion.

"You can start by better concealing the movements you're about to make," Cedarstorm pointed out, "Talented fighters like Stormpaw are able to easily read their opponents strategy by noting physical cues. For example, making eye contact, though hard to avoid in battle, can actually be detrimental, because emotions are often apparent in facial expressions. Warriors that are even more proficient can interpret your movements from how your limbs and muscles are positioned. Like if you're going to leap, your body subconsciously angles forward slightly, and the muscles of your front legs tighten as you prepare to spring. If an opponent notices even that tiny change, they can shift accordingly to take control of the skirmish."

"How can I possibly expect to stay one step ahead of Stormpaw?" Olivepaw whined, clearly wanting this humiliation to end.

Ignorant of the black apprentice's desperation, Cedarstorm continued to push, "Practice makes perfect, so try again!"

"I know you can beat me," Stormpaw encouraged her den mate, trying to be helpful. Olivepaw flashed her a look that blatantly communicated that he didn't believe her. Regardless, he dropped into a fighting stance once more, this time keeping his muzzle slightly turned so his expression was distorted.

Again, he waited for Stormpaw to take the first move.  _At least he's got that tactic down_ , the gray tabby she-cat thought.

This time Stormpaw went straight at the small raven-colored apprentice, her front paws aiming to land a blow on his cheek. Olivepaw ducked below her reach, still not quick enough to avoid her grazing his ear; then he rolled, twisting away from her before springing to his paws a few tail-lengths away. Instead of attacking her right away like he had done before, Olivepaw waited for her to face him once again, still keeping his head angled away. Once more, he waited for Stormpaw to make a move. The dark gray tabby she-cat charged at her den mate for the second time. Olivepaw repeated his move from before, ducking to the left to avoid her swipes, but this time he dropped all the way onto his back, rolling through the moss as speedily as he could. Expecting him to attack her from behind again, Stormpaw held her stance, waiting to gain control over the battle. However, Olivepaw had learned from his previous mistake and taken Cedarstorm's advice to heart; he had something else in mind.

Even though only seconds passed, Stormpaw managed to realize that Olivepaw had abandoned his previous tactic. Suddenly unaware of what her den mate was going to do, she was taken off guard when the black tom sprang up on her right side—the opposite side of the direction he had rolled. That meant, when she thought he had stopped rolling, he had actually continued until he was on her blind side. Olivepaw pummeled her flank with his paws and she hopped, trying to escape his hits. Olivepaw persisted, backing Stormpaw up against an old oak tree so she couldn't flee. That was the crucial error he made: putting Stormpaw in a position to use her surroundings for a counter attack.

As her den mate aimed another clout for her muzzle, Stormpaw ducked and then pitched forward, kicking off from the tree trunk with her hind-legs. The force caused Olivepaw to topple backwards, but not with enough momentum to somersault. His icy eyes were wide with desolation, knowing that he was about to be defeated once more. Nonetheless, he tried frenziedly to roll over and regain his footing. Though he succeeded in righting himself, Stormpaw stopped him from getting to his paws by locking his shoulders down against the lichen-covered soil.

Convinced that Olivepaw wasn't going to try to play dead again, Stormpaw let him up right away. Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest; battling gave her such a rush of pleasure. She felt like she could never be stopped!

Even so, she was still concerned for Olivepaw, who was glaring daggers at Cedarstorm from across the clearing.

"What did I do wrong this time?" the dark-furred apprentice hissed furiously.

Returning a look of annoyance, Cedarstorm interjected, "Before you get all snotty with me, you actually did very well that time."

"Clearly it wasn't well enough if I still lost!" Olivepaw shot back, his easygoing attitude abandoned.

In an attempt to cheer him up, Stormpaw rested her tail on her den mate's shoulder, "You really had me there Olivepaw, I almost didn't beat you."

Olivepaw stiffened at her touch, drawing away, "You're just saying that!"

"No!" Stormpaw insisted, "I'm being serious. Come on! Try one more time. You've got this!"

With his fern-green eyes narrowed into slits, Olivepaw sprang at her without warning. Real fear, frigid and weighty, gripped Stormpaw. She wasn't afraid of the attack from her clan mate, but she didn't want to hurt Olivepaw. He was a kind tom, and with more training, he would be a great warrior. Regardless, Stormpaw couldn't ignore it when the sharp prick of Olivepaw's unsheathed claws dug into her shoulders. The situation became grave, and for the sake her den mate, Stormpaw knew she had to put an end to this. If any cat, especially Cedarstorm, saw Olivepaw using his claws against a clanmate, the obsidian-colored apprentice would be stuck in camp removing ticks from the elders for a moon.

Stormpaw forced Olivepaw into an upright lock, both apprentices teetering on only their back legs. Lacking the strength to properly balance and defend himself, Olivepaw was overwhelmed by Stormpaw almost instantly. The gray tabby she-cat wrestled him down to the ground with pure muscle, pinning him once again.

Distress for her den mate gave way to surprise as something barreled into Stormpaw's right flank. She flew away from her former adversary, listing through the mossy carpet. Above her, her new enemy's claws dug into the flesh on her back.

It wasn't until she lurched to a halt that she identified her attacker as another of her den mates, and brother to Olivepaw: Duskpaw.

The dark ginger tabby tom's eyes were brimming with malice as he screeched in Stormpaw's face, "What in StarClan's name are you doing?! Leave him alone, you horrible piece of mouse-dung!"

_Not this irritating mouse-brain_ , Stormpaw groaned inwardly. Duskpaw seemed to carry a constant god complex on his shoulders, bossing around everyone in his vicinity and boasting about his skills. He was a better fighter than his brother, but not quite as talented as Stormpaw. Using all her weight, Stormpaw rolled away from the vexing ginger tom, causing him to lose his balance and her to regain her footing in one sleek turn. The fiery tabby apprentice stared her down from a few tail-lengths away.

"I was only trying to help!" Stormpaw spat at her rival, "He was doing pretty well, until you interfered by  _jabbing your claws into me_!"

Duskpaw sniffed haughtily, "It must have been  _so_  helpful using all your strength to pin a helpless cat…what a  _noble warrior_." His voice oozed sarcasm as he drew out the last two words.

Not willing to give in to her den mate's cold remarks, Stormpaw retaliated, "At least I'll be able to call myself a warrior. No warrior behaves the way that you do; you should still be in the  _nursery_!"

Duskpaw's face screwed up into an ugly sneer. It was clear that he was at a loss for words; Stormpaw had won. But her ginger-pelted foe could never bear to lose, be it a battle or an argument. His mind was consumed only with himself and how great he thought he was. Knowing this, Stormpaw braced herself for the rain of blows he would most certainly launch at her.

Surprisingly, the blows never came. Instead, the massive brown shape of Cedarstorm bolted in front of her. Towering over Duskpaw, the powerful tabby tom batted the young, orange-furred cat away with a sweep of his huge paw.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing to my apprentice?"

The sibilant holler came from a long-furred brown tom as he stalked into the clearing. This was Shrewtuft, Duskpaw's mentor. Tiny tassels of fur, from which he got his name, twitched from the ends of his down-turned ears—he was furious. Though significantly younger and smaller than Cedarstorm, Shrewtuft challenged the senior warrior with no sign of fear in his pale green eyes.

Of course, Cedarstorm stood his ground. Stormpaw could feel the threat heavy in her mentor's words when he spoke.

"Your 'apprentice' is about as well-behaved as a badger, and rudely interrupted the training session we were having."

Shrewtuft's eyes rolled to face Duskpaw and Stormpaw saw the look of heady defiance blazing in her den mate's yellow eyes. Though barely noticeable, Stormpaw saw Shrewtuft nod at the ginger tabby apprentice. The dark brown warrior knew that Duskpaw was being a bother, but was going to defend him anyway; probably to safeguard his dignity as a good mentor, especially in front of Cedarstorm.

Sure enough, Shrewtuft queried, his voice icy and snake-like, "Are you suggesting that Duskpaw is receiving poor training from me? That I am not fit to be his mentor?"

"If he keeps acting like an impudent kit, I might suggest something of the sort," Cedarstorm countered, voice equally as frigid.

By now, Shrewtuft was only mouse-lengths away from the solid tabby boulder of a cat that was Cedarstorm. The soil-colored tom was muzzle-to-muzzle with the Stormpaw's mentor, but glowered up into his superior's amber eyes audaciously.

Stormpaw found her legs quivering as she watched the two fearsome warriors try to intimidate one another, but she could not tell if the trembling was simply from exasperation, or if it was caused by the prospect of possibly fighting the antagonistic russet cat standing next to her into submission. A fox-length away from her, Duskpaw gazed at his mentor with admiration and overconfidence. Fury welled in Stormpaw's chest at how childish he was behaving.

Turning to him, she hissed crossly, "You're sick Duskpaw! You need your mentor to fight your battles for you… 'what a  _noble warrior_ '. When will you finally grow up and realize you aren't StarClan's gift to the world?"

It was apparent that she struck a nerve as Duskpaw focused back on her, hackles raising as he prepared to spring at her once again.

"You'll pay for bullying my brother!" he screeched, paw hoisting to slash at her muzzle.

"Enough!"

The shout came from Olivepaw himself. All four quarreling cats turned to face the small, black tom. Olivepaw bowed his head with embarrassment, mumbling an apology for interrupting.

Realizing the pointlessness of the argument, Cedarstorm shook his broad head and let out a sigh before addressing Stormpaw.

"Stormpaw, you did nothing wrong today. You will make an excellent warrior, someday soon I believe. You are dismissed."

"Nothing wrong?!" Duskpaw cut in—clearly he wasn't yet satisfied, "Are you all muscle and no smarts? That stupid, heartless, bloodthirsty battle-brain hurt my littermate!"

"Actually-" Olivepaw mewed, raising a paw in objection.

"Hush Olivepaw," Duskpaw silenced his brother, "I'm getting you the apology you deserve."

Struggling to keep his composure, Cedarstorm's response was spat out through tightly clenched teeth, "Stormpaw, you  _still_  did nothing wrong today. You will make an even  _better_  warrior by learning that some insolent apprentices will behave like cowardly brats until they get their way, and truly the only thing you can do is to tell them what they want to hear until they go away and karma exacts its sweet revenge."

Understanding what he meant, Stormpaw whipped around to face Olivepaw, her head held high. She looked the already-mortified black cat right in the eye and uttered a sincere apology.

"I am truly sorry if I hurt you today during training Olivepaw. I think that you have improved a lot, and will be a great warrior one day. Keep working hard."

Olivepaw nodded to her, his eyes simmering with shame that his brother had gone and embarrassed him by causing such a commotion.

"Stormpaw, why don't you go hunting until the sun starts to set?" Cedarstorm suggested, though it was clear to the gray tabby she-cat that it was more of an order, "After that, you can be done for the day."

Stormpaw nodded, her mind still reeling with anger at Duskpaw. Not only had he made a scene, but he had clearly humiliated his brother, who he claimed to be standing up for.

Neither Duskpaw nor his mentor said a word as she whisked off into the dense forest, though she could feel the hot gaze of the arrogant orange apprentice on her back as she disappeared into the brush. She knew that someday soon, he would get what was due.

Beyond the training clearing, trees rose around her, already blooming as the warmth of Newleaf wrapped its temperate fingers throughout the forest. Leaf-bare had been a struggle for ThunderClan even though very little snow had fallen. Prey had been extremely hard to come by, and any that was caught had gone directly to the queens, kits, and elders. Many cats fell ill with Greencough. Fulfilling his duties until his last breath, Rootsky, the former medicine cat, succumbed to the sickness, leaving behind his apprentice, Sorrelheart. Despite the elderly medicine cat's best efforts, an elder and two of Sparrowflight's young kits died, and Maplestar lost a life. It was vital that ThunderClan be well-provided for now as they recovered from their losses.

However, as Stormpaw wandered across her home territory, no scents of prey caught her attention. The ground beneath her paws was damp and cold, and though some plants were growing, cover was pretty scarce. She kicked aside prickly dead branches as she silently tread her way along familiar paths. Nearing the ShadowClan border, she finally picked up a faint scent of mouse.

Scanning the land around her, she couldn't spot the small creature and decided to climb a nearby tree to gain a vantage point. Her dark gray tabby fur blended in with the dull bark and covered the flash of bright white on her chest. When she reached a branch, she crept out onto it, searching the landscape below for any signs of life. At last she noticed a tiny gray-brown shape rubbing its paws over its nose. It was only a few tail-lengths away from her prone form seated on the sturdy bough. Creeping stealthily forward, Stormpaw launched herself from the low-hanging branch and dispatched the unsuspecting mouse with a swift bite to the neck. She silently thanked StarClan for such a clean kill and buried her catch at the foot of the tree she had previously climbed. It would only make a few bites, but it was better than nothing.

Continuing her hunt, Stormpaw meandered throughout ThunderClan territory for what must have been hours, and by the time she pattered up to the lakeshore, she could see the sun beginning to set over the vast expanse of water. So much time had passed and all she had to show for her efforts was one measly, half-starved mouse. She could already picture the look on Cedarstorm's face when she returned with her paltry catch. Regardless, it was useless to continue searching for prey when there was clearly none around. She decided to accept her losses, retrieve the fresh-kill she had caught, and return to camp.

By the time Stormpaw reached the thorn tunnel, the last rays of sunlight beamed in through the trees as night settled over the territories. With the mouse hanging from her mouth, its body now cold and stiff, she inhaled deeply through her nose and stepped in, praying to StarClan that her mentor wasn't around to see her disgrace.

Unfortunately, she had no such luck. Cedarstorm lay outside the warrior's den, sharing tongues with his sister, Browndapple. As soon as Stormpaw dropped her catch on the fresh-kill pile, the muscular brown tabby tom rose and approached her. She braced herself for her mentor's harsh words.

"Is that really all you could find?" the lack of anger in Cedarstorm's voice surprised Stormpaw. She met her mentor's eyes to see that their amber depths held only concern.

"I searched all through the forest on the ShadowClan side, from the back edge of our territory to the lake, and this was all I could find. I'm sorry, Cedarstorm…"

"Hmph," the senior warrior grunted, "There's no need to apologize. You're the best apprentice any mentor could ask for. It's just that ThunderClan needs the prey to return soon. Things are better now than they were in the middle of Leaf-bare, but the hunting patrols still didn't bring back much today either. Quickleap even sent out more than usual. You should get some rest. You've done well today, and as always, I'm very proud of you. Only about a moon more of training and you'll join me in the warrior's den."

The large tabby forced a smile at his apprentice, and Stormpaw returned it awkwardly. It was obvious that the severe absence of prey was concerning even to the most senior warriors. Even though Cedarstorm's pelt rippled with muscles, Stormpaw could still see that he was slimmer than he should be, and his ribs subtly peeked through his striped pelt. ThunderClan was still suffering.

Deciding to take her mentor's advice, Stormpaw turned to head towards the apprentice's den, but a flash of gold and silver fur caught her eye. It was her parents, Leopardcloud and Birchtooth; both were headed towards a rock ledge on the far side of the quarry, presumably to share tongues and prey before retiring to the warrior's den. Stormpaw caught the pale, yellow eyes of her mother for a second, but Leopardcloud promptly turned her muzzle away.

Of all the struggles Stormpaw faced, and admittedly there were fewer for her than for most, the greatest puzzle to her was that of her relationship with her parents. Sure, Duskpaw could be a bother, Cedarstorm could be wily or strict, and Olivepaw needed constant encouragement, but Leopardcloud and Birchtooth never paid much attention to their only kit.

Leopardcloud was a senior warrior like Cedarstorm and Browndapple, but she rarely spoke to anyone besides Birchtooth. Like her daughter, she had no siblings—in fact, she had no living relatives at all. Her pelt was sleek and golden with darker stripes broken up into rows of spots, and all four of her paws were mitted with white. She was large for a she-cat, a trait that Stormpaw would likely share. The only other familial resemblance Stormpaw exhibited from her mother's genes was her eye color: a bright, sunny yellow. Birchtooth on the other paw, was a little younger than his mate, built average for a tom, with a silver tabby pelt and blue eyes. He was more talkative than Leopardcloud, and extremely clever. Nonetheless, he didn't show any more liking for his daughter than his mate did.

When it came time to train and Stormpaw was given to Cedarstorm, a beloved and experienced mentor, her parents muttered a brief 'congratulations', but no more. Further along, when her talent for fighting became known and admired by the rest of ThunderClan, Stormpaw's parents didn't demonstrate a single instance of pride for their gifted daughter.

Pushing aside the brief moment of discomfort, Stormpaw stalked into the apprentice's den with her head held high. For the second time that day, she felt the smoldering, critical gaze of a clan mate piercing into her back; she knew her parents were glaring at her from their spot overlooking camp.

_Why don't they even acknowledge me as their kit? Am I truly just a disappointment to them?_  Stormpaw wondered. This distance hurt more than any mental or physical wound she had ever suffered. It was almost like she didn't exist to her own two parents.

Regardless of how unusual and wounding it might have been, Stormpaw forced herself to ignore it. She would be a warrior soon—and not just any warrior, a  _great_  one! Her parents would have to accept her when she slept in the same den as them. Until then, she would keep working as hard as she could to show them that she was a cat to be reckoned with—one that the rest of ThunderClan was already impressed by. No matter what, she would  _make_  them be proud of her!

Even though it sparked a bit of hope in them, seeing this determination filled the cats of StarClan with shame. The chances of Stormpaw ever becoming the great warrior she was so destined to be, or instilling a sense of pride in her detached parents, were turning slimmer and slimmer still. The clans were nearing a fate that they could never recover from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact #1: Since it won't be addressed in later chapters, I'll fill you in on why Birchtooth and Leopardcloud don't really give a hoot about Stormpaw. For starters, Leopardcloud just doesn't really feel one way or the other about her kit. She doesn't have strong feelings for anyone or anything (not even her clan) besides Birchtooth. Furthermore, she never wanted to have kits, especially considering Birchtooth's beliefs. Birchtooth is actually a pretty talkative guy and cares a lot about ThunderClan…one might say a little too much in some aspects. He is incredibly smart, and because of that, he was in constant competition with his brother, Quickleap (the deputy). Birchtooth believes that a she-cat having kits inhibits their ability to be a good warrior. Obviously, he understands why it's necessary, and he doesn't mind the kits, he just thinks it turns she-cats too soft. In fact, when Leopardcloud was stuck in the nursery, he wouldn't speak to her at all. If not for this strange belief, Birchtooth probably would have been made deputy in his brother's stead. I definitely wanted to stray away from the beat-to-death plot of parents hating their kits for no good reason. In this case, it's more of the parents just don't really take stereotypical parental responsibilities and don't really care what Stormpaw does; ThunderClan as a whole is her parent.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: Bouncing off that last FF, Birchtooth really doesn't have a good relationship with any of his siblings. He's closest to Quickleap, but still jealous that his brother was made deputy over him, and he won't talk to either of his sisters (Grasseye and Sparrowflight) because they're both queens.
> 
> Fun Fact #3: It's kind of a miracle that all three of Birchtooth's littermates are still alive and well. Normally, in the Warriors series, a litter of kits rarely makes it to adulthood together/living, especially litters of four or larger.
> 
> Fun Fact #4: Though a cat having a litter of one is more rare than not, Stormpaw was in fact the only kit in her litter. There were no still-births in her litter; she legitimately has no siblings whatsoever.


	5. Chapter 4: The Desire to be Enough

CHAPTER 4

“Alright Asterpaw, today we’re going to work more on balance,” Stagtail informed.

Asterpaw tried to focus on the words that his mentor was saying, but found his mind wandering against his will.  His brown-furred teacher was standing right next to him, towering a rabbit-length above Asterpaw’s small, blue tabby frame.  Immediately, the experienced warrior sensed his apprentice’s distraction and called his attention back to training.

“Come on, Asterpaw.  Focus!  We’ve been trying to perfect your back kick for a few days now!” Stagtail reminded him, nudging Asterpaw gently in the ribs.

Asterpaw stared down at his paws, the only part of his underdeveloped body that was shock white instead of pale blue-gray.  He shuffled his feet in the rough moor grass, already feeling shame leak into his chest at the prospect of being an utter let-down in battle training once again.  Two and a half moons of training had passed by already and he still wasn’t fast enough to catch a healthy rabbit, nor was he strong enough to pull off many battle moves.  Out of all the WindClan apprentices, he seemed the farthest behind in his training, even though some of his den mates were younger than him.  Stagtail had already asked him a couple of times if he was sure he seriously didn’t want to become a medicine cat.  With those memories lingering in his mind, Asterpaw wondered, _what’s wrong with me?_

“Hey!  I don’t want to have to have another talk with you, Asterpaw,” Stagtail once again interrupted his wandering thoughts, “Let’s start warming up.  I know you can balance on your hind-legs, so we’ll start with that—on your paws and hold for a count of ten.”

Shaking away his nerves, Asterpaw reared up onto his back legs, his feather-white forepaws pulled in close to his chest.  He wobbled precariously for a moment and felt his mentor’s tail slap against his flank, as the young brown warrior instructed him.

“Keep your tail out straight.  Only ThunderClan keep their tails tucked in like the mouse-bellies they are.  Alright, now five…four…three…two…one…and, you’re all done.”

Relieved, Asterpaw dropped back to all fours, waiting for Stagtail’s next command.

“The more you practice this kind of balance, along with running some sprints, the stronger your back legs will become,” the dappled brown tom informed, “But I think your real weakness lies in your front legs.  Your back legs are pretty strong, and they will continue to get stronger the more you hunt, fight, and train, but your front legs seem to struggle developing muscle.  I think we need to work a lot more on strengthening your front legs.  If we do that, you should be able to run faster without tripping, turn more easily during a chase, and hit your opponents with more _oomph_.”

“Okay,” Asterpaw mewed, feeling a little uplifted at the tone of confidence in Stagtail’s voice, “Do you know any exercises I could do to help with my front legs?  I’ll do whatever you say.  You know I want to be a great warrior.”

Stagtail gazed down at his apprentice fondly, his white muzzle opening to heave a sigh.  He _did_ know; he knew how much Asterpaw wanted to excel at his warrior duties and he knew how hard the little blue tabby tom worked to get better.  Asterpaw didn’t notice his mentor suddenly stiffen with resolve, nor did he see the doubt still lingering in Stagtail’s golden eyes.

“Hmm,” Stagtail rumbled, “Well, you could try running with stones tied to your paws.  I know Violapetal had to do that to strengthen her shoulder after she wrenched it in a border skirmish.  Though, I said we were working on balance today, so let’s have you do some more balancing, but on your front paws this time.”

Asterpaw felt a quiver run down his spine, “But, I’ve tried that loads of times already and I still can’t do it for even a five-count.”

Stagtail touched his nose to Asterpaw’s shoulder, “If you keep practicing, I know you’ll be able to do it.”

With a flick of his long tail, Stagtail beckoned for Asterpaw to follow him, his short, soil-colored fur dotted with flecks of rich umber and tan helped the WindClan warrior to blend into the coarse upland grass as he galloped easily towards the hillside rising nearby.  Behind him, Asterpaw lagged a bit, noticing how the muscles in his haunches had far more might than those in his shoulders.  If he got going too fast, his forelegs couldn’t keep up and he would stumble.  It was just like his mentor said.  Luckily, Stagtail wasn’t tearing away at full-tilt with the speed only WindClan cats could possess, but cantering calmly and smoothly amid the clumps of springy grassland.  After a few minutes of running, Stagtail suddenly picked up speed before screeching to a halt by rearing up onto his fore-legs and spinning around to face Asterpaw, demonstrating the move.  The panting blue tabby apprentice closed the distance between him and his mentor with a few short, unsteady bounds.  They were stopped close to the top part of the hill, where the ground sloped steeply downwards.

“I want you to practice balancing on the hill today,” Stagtail meowed as Asterpaw approached, “If you practice facing up the hill, it will be more difficult to elevate your body, but it will help build your muscles.  If you practice facing down the hill—I won’t make you do that quite yet—you’d have no problem rearing up, but you’d have a much harder time keeping yourself steady.  You might even tumble down the hill if you put too much of your weight into it.  If you need to, try getting a running start.  Alright, go for it Asterpaw.”

Asterpaw suddenly quailed at the order his mentor had given him.  _I’m not ready to do this…I can’t.  Please, Stagtail, don’t make me_.  Doubt pricked its cruel claws into the blue tabby apprentice’s chest, making him hesitate.  He gazed up into the eyes of Stagtail, glittering golden with anticipation.  The hillside began to blur in Asterpaw’s sunny yellow eyes as his nerves gripped him belligerently.  Inside the young tom’s mind, frustration mingled with his fear.  He couldn’t count how many times he had frozen during a training like this.

“Come on, Asterpaw,” Stagtail urged patiently, “Give it a go.”

Shaking his muzzle, Asterpaw clenched his eyes closed as tightly as he could, digging his claws into the dirt as he gave an awkward bound forward.  His hind-legs bunched powerfully beneath him, before propelling his haunches into the air.  The energy behind his movement lifted even his quivering fore-paws into the air as he flipped forward, the slanting hillside rising swiftly to collide roughly with his back.  Eyes flying open, Asterpaw was met with the upside-down image of his mentor’s anxious face.

“Well, that was a little too much _oomph_ , but the enthusiasm was spot-on,” Stagtail smiled upon seeing that his apprentice was mostly unharmed.  Asterpaw was relieved to find no sign of laughter in his mentor’s eyes—Stagtail wasn’t making fun of him.  Nevertheless, with the moor so wide open and clear, any WindClan warrior could have sighted his embarrassing blunder, and if any of his den mates, two malicious ones in particular, caught wind of Asterpaw’s flop, the teasing would be endless.

Stagtail gestured his tail for Asterpaw to try again, and the small blue tabby tom rolled reluctantly back to his paws before attempting once more.

This continued on until the sun was at its highest point in the sky, just barely peeking out behind thick tufts of cloud.  By that time, both mentor and apprentice had reached their limit.  The whole front half of Asterpaw’s body ached, a muscle running down his right shoulder throbbing angrily beneath his pelt.  He could tell that Stagtail was frustrated with him; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t balance for more than two seconds, and when he did manage to find an okay stance, it was with his hindlegs splayed out awkwardly and immobilized.  He felt as though he could never hope to perfect the back kick.

With a noisy sigh, Stagtail conceded, “That’s enough for today.  We’ll keep working on it again tomorrow.  Let’s do some hunting before we head back to camp though.  I’m sure the queens and elders will be grateful after such an arduous Leaf-bare.”

The flecked brown warrior led Asterpaw back down the hillside, pausing occasionally to drink in the scents.  Loamy patches of coarse moorland grass cobbled the plain hillocks, concealing small creatures whose fur would blend in with the mixture of tans and pale greens.  Mentor and apprentice searched for hours across the southern patch of WindClan territory.  Asterpaw missed one field mouse, but somewhat made up for it with the sloppy catch of another.  Stagtail had needed to help him, but at least it was something.  As the sun began to lower itself down towards the horizon, Stagtail spotted a young hare, thin still from Leaf-bare, but large enough to feed a few cats.  Casting a pitiful look down at Asterpaw, he shook his head “no” and mouthed, “Let me get this one.”

Asterpaw tried to push aside the knowledge that even if he tried, he probably wouldn’t be able to catch the hare.  _Stagtail needs to get this one because WindClan needs food.  We can’t afford to lose such a good piece of fresh-kill after the harsh Leaf-bare.  I’ll have plenty more opportunities to practice hunting later in Newleaf and Greenleaf_ , he reassured himself.

So, the blue tabby apprentice contented himself with studying his mentor’s movements as Stagtail adjusted his position to be upwind of the hare, before bunching his muscles and racing forward at top speed with all the fleetness and grace of WindClan warrior.  The hare had no chance to let out a squeal of surprise at the hungry cat lunging towards it.  It turned to flee but only made it a few frantic paces away before Stagtail batted its hind-legs out from under it and delivered a fierce bite to the back of its neck.  With a few final twitches, the hare’s body fell still.  Asterpaw released the hopeful breath he had been holding.

Stagtail sent him to retrieve his catch and then return to camp.

As Asterpaw padded up to the scoop in the earth that WindClan called home, the tiny, ragged field mouse dangling from his jaws, he familiarized himself with the arrangement of his clan mates.  Hickorystar was nowhere to be seen.  Being as old as he was, WindClan’s leader had probably already retired to the old badger set he called his nest.  Blackberrywing, the deputy, was chatting with Marblespots, a senior warrior, probably about the silver tabby tom’s 5-moon old kits as they neared their apprenticeship.  In the shadow of a boulder, Ilexfang lay curled uncomfortably around his new, and heftily pregnant, mate Pansyfeather.  Asterpaw felt a small surge of anger for his biological father caressing a she-cat that wasn’t his mother, but he mentally shoved it aside.  Ilexfang could do whatever he wanted, and with Flittersong’s sometimes stifling personality, Asterpaw could envision why the black and white tom had left her for the calmer and quieter Pansyfeather.  Next to the dip in the ground, Silverpaw and Talonpaw were dashing through the soft sand and weeds, practicing battle moves at odd intervals.  Asterpaw particularly kept his eyes locked on those two, making sure they didn’t turn their attention on him.

Silverpaw and Talonpaw were the youngest sons of Hickorystar himself, though only Silverpaw closely resembled the now elderly leader.  Talonpaw looked like their mother who had died shortly after her kitting.  They were the oldest apprentices in WindClan at the moment, and only about a moon away from warriorhood.  Nonetheless, they picked on and bullied anyone they deemed too weak or lesser than them—Asterpaw was one of their favorite targets.

Skirting the camp slowly, his body lowered slightly towards the ground, Asterpaw snuck his meager catch onto the fresh-kill pile, watching his two older den mates the entire time.  Thankfully, they didn’t spot him, and he dashed towards the underground portion of the apprentice’s den: a hole in the ground once inhabited by foxes.  Inside, the black and ginger shape of Clovepaw was already curled up into her feather-lined nest.  Asterpaw remembered that he had heard something about Clovepaw being on moon-high patrol tonight; that must have been why she was resting now.  Replacing the agony in Asterpaw’s abused muscles was sheer numbness.  He felt what was left of his energy quickly shamble out of his exhausted being as his paws almost gave way beneath him.  Luckily, he made it to his nest in the far corner of the cozy den, and before he could register the presence of sleep in the back of his mind, it had completely engulfed him.

He was awakened by the sneering of two all-too-familiar voices, though for once they weren’t directed at him.  His eyes flew open to watch the scene unfold.

Clovepaw was gone from the den, but seated in her own nest a few over from Asterpaw, was Dianthuspaw.  She had soft, all-white fur, still dotted with the last of her downy kitten fuzz, and mismatched eyes.  Her left eye was warm amber, but her right eye, closest to Asterpaw due to how she was positioned, was sky blue, and it was on this same side that Dianthuspaw was also deaf.  Her paws were tucked elegantly beneath her, but her tail twitched with agitation behind her.  Asterpaw could sense the aura of smoldering hurt and anger billowing outwards from her, and directed at the two near-full-grown tom cats in front of her.  Looming menacingly before the half-deaf apprentice, were Silverpaw and Talonpaw, their eyes narrowed into cruel slits as they ruthlessly upbraided Dianthuspaw with scornful words.  Dianthuspaw and her sister, Erminepaw, had only been apprentices for a couple weeks, and already the terrible duo of senior apprentices had selected the disabled white she-cat as their newest target.

“Who said you could have a nest so close to the center of the den?” that was Silverpaw, “You’re an apprentice, you should know that the eldest cats get the nests in the middle where it’s warmest!”

Dianthuspaw just ignored him, heaving a sigh before tucking her nose down against her chest and closing her eyes.

Silverpaw shoved his brother roughly in the shoulder and Talonpaw prowled closer to Dianthuspaw, poking her roughly with his claw until she was forced to open one eye to glare up at the dark brown and the gray tabby bullies.

“Did you hear what he just said?  You. Need. To. Move…” the brown tom growled at her, enunciating every word with another jab of his claw into her leg.

“She’s deaf, remember?” Silverpaw nudged his brother, his lips curling up into a disdainful smirk, “That’s why her daddy has to mentor her.”

Talonpaw let out a short laugh, before suddenly cuffing Dianthuspaw roughly over her deaf ear.  The white she-cat flinched, letting out a hiss of pain and shock as she tried to draw away from her antagonizing den mates.  Talonpaw continued.

“So, you can feel pain in that ear, but you can’t hear anything out of it.  Seems troublesome.  We could slice it off for you,” his arrogant voice trembling with malice, “I still can’t believe father even let you become an apprentice in the first place.  You’re useless!”

Silverpaw snickered behind his brother, nodding his head when Talonpaw glanced questioningly back at the gray tabby; Silverpaw was clearly the ringleader.  Nasty smiles widened on both of their faces as Talonpaw padded closer towards Dianthuspaw, raising his paw to bat at her again.

Asterpaw had seen and heard enough.  Swallowing his fear, he hurriedly got to his paws and crossed the den to step in front of Dianthuspaw.

“Leave her alone!” he spat furiously.

The flicker of surprise vanished from Silverpaw’s pale green eyes almost as soon as it appeared.  It was exchanged with a look of wicked glee.  Here the brothers’ alternate play-thing had intervened, begging to be taunted and taken down a few notches.  Both took menacing steps towards Asterpaw.

Righteous fury battled against acute terror, just barely overwhelming the blood-chilling fear that Asterpaw felt as he faced his antagonists.  He tried to keep his legs from trembling—he knew he could not beat either of them in a scuffle, but if his clan mates heard him scream for help, the two apprentices would play it off as though Asterpaw himself had been the offender.  Even if his clan mates knew what Silverpaw and Talonpaw said wasn’t true, they wouldn’t do anything to challenge the sons of WindClan’s leader.  Some might even defend them, like Silverpaw’s mentor, Martenstorm.

“Why do you pick on other cats?” Asterpaw growled, trying to keep his voice free of distress, “You think you’re better than everyone else so you treat them like badger-dung.  Why?”

Talonpaw scoffed, “We don’t _think_ we’re better, do we Silverpaw?”

Silverpaw shook his head, continuing to close the gap between him and Asterpaw.  Their muzzles almost touching, the gray tabby apprentice affirmed his brother with a quiet, threatening jeer, “We _know_ we’re better than weak, mewling kittens like you.  The blood of the fiercest warriors and the noblest leaders runs through our veins.  We pick on small fries like you because you can never be great like us, and you deserve to know that.  Besides, what cat isn’t going to back us when father is also the WindClan leader?”

“You’re no better than a-a Dark F-forest cat,” Asterpaw rebutted, but his voice was quivering as much as his legs now.

Silverpaw suddenly pitched forward and Asterpaw shrank back in panic, but he felt no swat of his fellow apprentice’s claws or nip of his fangs.  Forcing his tightly clenched eyes to open, he saw Silverpaw and Talonpaw cackling a few paces away, before turning their backs and leaving the den.  The raucous sound of their laughter flooded Asterpaw’s veins with horror.  _They are truly despicable cats, StarClan will see that they pay for their cruel actions!_

Something shifted behind Asterpaw, and all of the sudden, the blue tabby tom apprentice was being shoved into the wall of the den.  He glanced over to meet the fuming mismatched gaze of Dianthuspaw.

“I can take care of myself,” she bristled, “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.  Keep your nose in your own business next time!”

With that, Dianthuspaw whisked her way out of the apprentice’s den, leaving Asterpaw feeling shocked and empty inside.  He sat stock-still in hurt confusion for some time before also heading out of the apprentice’s den.

Outside the sun’s last few rays of light were disappearing beyond the horizon and many cats were laying together in groups beneath the first pin pricks of stars appearing above, sharing tongues.  Feeling a twinge of hunger in his stomach, Asterpaw glanced towards where the fresh-kill was deposited, but upon noticing how empty it looked, he shoved away his thoughts of food.  Instead, he climbed up the hill flanking WindClan’s camp and flopped into the heady moor grass near the top.  The sharp, yet flexible, little stalks of green poked into his belly fur, tickling against his skin.

Once more, Asterpaw felt his gaze scanning over his clan mates.  The kits of Marblespots and Wheatcloud were listening attentively to a story being told by Quakerleaf, their elderly grandmother.  One of the kits, Asterpaw thought it was Rainykit, was simultaneously pouncing on Quakerleaf’s twitching tail.  The gray tabby elder didn’t seem to mind though.  Gooseshadow, Columbineleaf, and Pollenwind all bounded in from across the moor, their jaws clinging to a few scrawny pieces of prey.  They must have been on a hunting patrol.  Silverpaw and Talonpaw were nowhere to be seen—they had probably gone out training or were off getting into trouble somewhere out of sight of the WindClan camp.  Dianthuspaw wasn’t around either, which seemed strange considering she had only just left Asterpaw in the apprentice’s den a few moments earlier.  However, his confusion about her absence was short-lived as he heard the soft patter of paw steps approaching him from behind and Dianthuspaw’s subtle, sweet heather scent washed over him.  The white she-cat laid down next to him quietly, tucking her front paws under her.

Asterpaw felt heat bubble throughout his body as he tensed, expecting her to say something harsh once more.  Instead, silence surrounded the two apprentices as night continued to slowly fold over the sky.

“I’m sorry,” the words were so soft, Asterpaw barely heard them.  He glanced over at Dianthuspaw lying next to him.  Her eyes were fixed on the stars twinkling above them.  She continued without looking at him.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you for defending me…thank you for standing up for me.”

The heat that had been burning in Asterpaw’s chest fled, only to be replaced with surprise.  She was thanking him for shielding her from the cruelty of Silverpaw and Talonpaw.  For the first time in his life, he felt a small, squeamish tingle of joy.  His life hadn’t been a terrible one thus far, but reflecting back on it, there had never really been a time where he had felt a kinship to his peers or pride in something positive he had done.  This new feeling surprised him even more so than the fact that Dianthuspaw was now showing him gratitude after rejecting him previously.

He opened his mouth to respond to her, but she stopped him, “Don’t spoil it by saying anything.  I know they pick on you—I’ve seen it, even when I was still in the nursery.  It was very brave of you to stand up to them…but it was still stupid.  They could have seriously hurt you.  No matter what they may say to me, they cannot hurt me.  The clan would not tolerate them wounding a feeble, _disabled_ cat like me.”

The word “disabled” was spat out, full of venom, but Asterpaw could sense the hurt buried beneath all the ice in Dianthuspaw’s voice.  With that, she stood up, and turned to walk away.  The burning inside of Asterpaw’s chest had cooled to a pleasant warmth.

“Goodnight Dianthuspaw,” he murmured as she padded away.

Though he didn’t turn his head to gaze at her as she left, he heard her pause for a second, her good ear twitching as she mewed back, “Goodnight Asterpaw.”

When he finally took the time to glance back over his shoulder, she was long gone, probably skirting the moorland hills in search of her sister or parents.

Speaking of parents, trotting towards him from the shallow scoop of earth WindClan called camp, was the small, dappled shape of Asterpaw’s mother, Flittersong.  Asterpaw could just make out the blue and cream tortoiseshell patches of her fur in the ever-dwindling light.  The same sun-yellow eyes as her only kit shimmered with purpose.  Bounding the rest of the way up the hill, she reached Asterpaw’s side in no time at all, sitting down next to him and immediately starting to groom his blue tabby fur roughly.

Asterpaw tensed beneath his mother’s tongue, wanting desperately to pull away from her, but at the same time, he didn’t have the heart to do so.  He knew the fragility of her temperament.

Flittersong had been young and beautiful—she still was really—but early into her warriorhood, she fell head-over-paws in love with a tom who was only destined to break her heart.  She had always been delicate…clinging to the cats around her, particularly her brother Wormwhisker, who was kind enough to tolerate her, unlike her other brother, Nimbleshade, who was quick to flee from her overwhelming presence.  Though those closest to her had urged her to become more independent, she clung doggedly onto them, unable to grant them any reprieve from her overprotectiveness.  She pursued Ilexfang, the tom she had mooned after since she had earned her warrior name, and once she had finally caught him, was quick to force him into a situation that would make it difficult for him to abandon her.  He was welcoming of her at first, but seeing the way she unnecessarily tried to control his other personal relationships, he tired of her rapidly.  He could not so much as patrol with another she-cat lest she question his faithfulness to her, nor could he be away from her side for any longer than a few hours unless he wished his love for her to be doubted.  She could not bear to think that he, whom she loved so much, might not love her in return—it kept her up at night, anxiety swallowing her until she broke into fits of panicky rage at her mate.  It wasn’t long before she bore Ilexfang’s kits, one of the two dying shortly after being released from her body; the other, a tiny blue tabby tom with white-mitted paws, became her new world.

Ashamed and afraid of his new responsibility as a father, especially with a she-cat that seemed so unhinged, Ilexfang spoke to Flittersong a few weeks after their son was born, telling her that they were no longer mates…he could not “in good conscience”, parent this kit alongside her.  Flittersong tried to tear his throat out, but her body, still weak from recent kit-birth, and heavy with milk for her beloved Asterkit, betrayed her.  Ilexfang fled from the nursery, and they never spoke again.

From then on, she would not let little Asterkit out of her sight.  He could not leave the nursery without her there to keep an eye on him, he could not sit with the elders and listen to their stories, he could not play with Clovekit, born before him, or Erminekit and Dianthuskit born after him.  Nor when Tasselkit, Rainykit, Marigoldkit, and Daffodilkit were born was he allowed to play with them neither.  Flittersong even went to the trouble of requesting Wormwhisker as his future mentor, but both Hickorystar and his trusty deputy Blackberrywing, denied it, already planning for Wormwhisker to mentor his disabled daughter since he had some experience working with a deaf cat, the trait being passed down to Dianthuskit from his mate, Cottonpool.  Flittersong was furious, but obeyed the choice of her leader with reluctance.  When Asterpaw was assigned Stagtail as his mentor, Flittersong lectured the poor young tom for a good hour about how to treat her son.

When Asterpaw, Asterkit at the time, had been old enough to understand that a father-figure was missing from his life, Flittersong had been quick to dispel his curiosity.  She spat curse after curse upon Ilexfang’s name and forbade Asterkit from ever speaking to him.  Nevertheless, when she was commanded to pick up her warrior’s duties once more, she had no choice but to leave her kit behind in camp.  Finally seeing a chance to talk to his son, Ilexfang approached the five-moon-old Asterkit while Flittersong was on a patrol.

_“I’m sure she’s told you already, but I’m your father, Asterkit.”_

Nervous, and skeptical because of his mother’s hatred toward the black and white tom cat, Asterkit responded with fear.

_“Why don’t you love Mama?  Why did you abandon us?”_

_Ilexfang sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping with guilt, “I love you and your Mama very much.  I love you as my son, and I love your Mama as my clan mate…I love all of my clan mates equally.  Your Mama and I, we had a fight, you see…and I realized that I could only love your Mama as a clan mate, and nothing more than that.  But Asterkit, please never think that I abandoned you.  I’ll always be your father, and I’ll always be here for you.  I am sorry that I could not have been around you during your kit-hood.  Please never feel like you cannot come and speak to me.  Your Mama and I, we may have our…differences…but you will always be my son and I will always love you in a very special way.”_

_Asterkit then noticed that the yellow eyes he-himself possessed, were far more similar to Ilexfang’s than they were to Flittersong’s.  They were yellow like a buttercup sprouting up in Newleaf, and his mother’s were more orangey, like a marigold._

_“It would be best not to tell your Mama that I spoke to you today,” Ilexfang continued, “Take good care of her, Asterkit.”_

Then he was gone, and Flittersong never heard about their exchange.  As Ilexfang had said, it was probably for the better.  Still, not even a moon into Asterpaw’s apprenticeship, and news had spread throughout the WindClan camp that Ilexfang had impregnated a new she-cat, the brave, yet dainty Pansyfeather.  Flittersong never mentioned the news, but Asterpaw could see that it ate her up inside—she was suffering.  At the same time, a prickle of anger washed over him too.  He hadn’t talked to Ilexfang since the day the bi-colored warrior had approached him, and now, as Ilexfang publicly doted upon and caressed his new mate, the likelihood of Asterpaw ever further connecting with his biological father grew slimmer as the days passed.

So, as much as Flittersong pestered him with sloppy licks or incessant questions about his training, Asterpaw lied to her, saying that everything was fine, letting her lap up his words thinking they must be affection.  He didn’t tell Flittersong that he wasn’t fast enough to catch a rabbit, strong enough to run at full-tilt like any respectable WindClan warrior, nor smart enough to ever best an opponent in battle.  He could only tell her about his day-to-day experiences through a lens of neutrality; let her believe that everything was going well, that he would be a fearsome warrior one day, even when he was filled with doubts himself.  He worked himself as hard as he could every single day, in hopes that someday those little white lies would become truths.  Everything _was_ fine, everything would be ok.

As the night progressed, Asterpaw followed through with these dishonest routines until Flittersong had run out of both energy and questions to ask him.

“Mum, I’d like to sleep alone tonight.  Is that okay?” he asked.

In her eyes, he saw her heart crack a little, and reassured her, “If I get lonely or cold or whatever, I’ll come find you right away, I promise.”

She nuzzled him mushily once more, pressing her cold nose and slightly parted lips into his cheek.  Her breath was hot and stifling in his fur; he longed for her to go away more than ever, but he forced himself to endure her overbearingness.

“I suppose, baby,” she mewled into the now-soggy fur of her son’s forehead, “But you better keep your promise.  Come find me if you need anything at all, and I expect you to sleep next to me tomorrow night to make up for it.”

“Yes, Mama,” he comforted her, “Goodnight Mama.”

With a final lick to his nose, she vaulted down the hillside to find a place to rest beneath the light of Silverpelt.

Alone, Asterpaw’s gaze drifted over his clan for the final time that night.  He hated to admit it, but it’s not like he couldn’t tell—his clan mates were still too thin.  WindClan cats had always been lean and muscular, but the cats he saw dotting the hillside around him were unhealthily skinny.  As in all the clans, this last Leaf-bare had been unforgiving, and the Leaf-fall prior had been the source of battles between WindClan and RiverClan over the alleged thievery of prey.  WindClan had lost four warriors and an elder to the battles; three of the warriors and the elder had died from their injuries or infection, and the other warrior had been murdered, supposedly by accident.  It left WindClan weak, hurting for fresh, strong cats to provide for the clan, but Leaf-bare robbed the moors of prey, making the already enfeebled clan even more damaged.  Another elder, already at the brink of StarClan’s gates, was tipped over the edge and into the paws of the starry ancestors by starvation.

Asterpaw had still only been a kit when Leaf-bare had begun, but he was relatively well-provided for by the rest of WindClan until he was made an apprentice and forced to endure his new responsibilities, even in the harsh conditions.

When would WindClan recover?  New-leaf was well on its way, the final frosts had melted weeks ago, and yet the moors still had little to offer the hungry clan.

 _If only I could be of more use to them all,_ Asterpaw despaired, _they need me to be stronger than I am.  I guess all I can do is keep working really hard.  But…should I consider asking Heatherstep to be her apprentice?  I don’t know…I really don’t feel like I’m cut out to be a medicine cat either…I feel like I’m supposed to be a warrior.  At the same time though, I don’t want to keep letting Stagtail, and my mother, and my clan mates down…I just…I just…I just really don’t know._

Twinkling overhead, StarClan was forced to share in the murky despair that the little blue-gray tabby apprentice felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Fun Fact #1: Asterpaw’s front legs are underdeveloped because of his mother.  Since Flittersong would not allow him to partake in very many activities while he was a kit, especially not allowing him to play with other kits, his front legs did not get enough exercise while he was in his most critical stages of growth.  Of course, he’s still growing, but not as quickly as he was early on as a kitten.  However, the fact that his front legs struggle to build muscle is more of a psychological thing.  His brain remembers there not being very much muscle stimulation early on in his life, and so the signals it sends to the muscles, even when Asterpaw is exercising them, do not cause the muscles to grow or strengthen like in other cats.  I doubt this is a real thing that exists, but this is a story about talking cats who live in groups and communicate with spirits, so pretty much anything is possible, though I try to throw in a decent amount of realism.
> 
>  
> 
> Fun Fact #2: The WindClan warrior that was murdered, was killed by a young RiverClan she-cat.  Rumor has it that it wasn’t really accidental.   Hmm, I wonder whodunnit?  Guess, we’ll never really know.
> 
>  
> 
> Fun Fact #3: The condition that both Dianthuspaw and Cottonpool share of having mismatched eyes and being deaf on the side of their blue eye, is actually a pretty common genetic disorder in felines.  There’s a high likelihood that blue-eyed white cats will be deaf (think Snowkit from the first arc in the Warriors series), and due to this, white cats with one-blue eye, and one eye of a different color, also tend to be deaf on the side of that blue eye.  Granted, in this case, Cottonpool’s non-blue eye is green, and Dianthuspaw’s non-blue eye is amber, but they are both deaf on their right side.


	6. Chapter 5: Hope Both Gained and Lost

CHAPTER 5

Though weeks had passed and Newleaf continued to wrap its tendrils of warmth and bounty around the lake territories, the river only grew shallower. Near the fallen tree leading to the Gathering island, the reedy lakebeds had shrunken until the large patch of RiverClan ground was more marsh than lake. Aquatic prey was still scarce; RiverClan were waiting patiently for more fish to return, but the lack of prey this far into Newleaf was both unusual and alarming. Instead, the clan of swimmers and fishers was relying heavily on ground-dwelling prey, though that too was sparse.

Lynxfur and Pale-eye had not recovered from their strange illness in the least, if anything they had only grown sicker. Not only that, but the elders Dustnose and Molefoot, and Roseflower, a queen, were sick and restricted to the medicine den as well. Piketail had also noticed Jadesong coughing while waiting for a patrol; it was bleak news for RiverClan if even their best warriors were being taken by the disease. He often saw Echosky skittering out of camp in search of herbs, her blue eyes constantly ablaze with worry. Now, she sat hunched over next to Fallowstar as the two spoke in hushed tones.

Their discussion probably wasn't very uplifting. Piketail figured that his father would be calling a clan meeting shortly to inform everyone. What would Fallowstar say? Was RiverClan in worse shape than he thought?

Echosky's murmured prayer came back to Piketail like a stone being dropped into the lake. The soft silver tabby had sounded so horrified as she begged StarClan for aid. At the time, Piketail had been filled with concern, but he forced those feelings of fear away. Surely time was all that RiverClan needed to recover from Leaf-bare; time for Newleaf to fill the river and lake with fish and restore the lush plant life to the forests, swamps, and moors. Still though, Piketail knew a perturbing secret: Echosky didn't recognize this illness, nor did she know a surefire way to cure it. Though gossip was usually quick to run rampant in RiverClan, and Piketail was usually quick to participate in it, this was one bit of information he had to keep to himself. StarClan knew what would happen if he filled his clan mates with more distress than they were already feeling.

Sure enough, just as the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky, Fallowstar trotted up the hillside and called to gather the clan together.

"Let all cats old enough to swim gather for a clan meeting!"

As the dark gray tabby leader stood poised atop the hill, gazing over his clan, his eyes met with Piketail's, and Fallowstar cracked a small, sad smile at his son. So, it  _was_  bad news.  _That must be the worst part about being leader_ , Piketail mused,  _telling your clan about something bad that's happening. I guess that just proves how strong a leader really has to be. I could do that without batting an eye if the need arose. I probably wouldn't be as soft-hearted about it as father, either. Sometimes I think he is blinded by his companionship to certain cats, like me, I suppose, and he lets his weak emotions show right through. He shouldn't show even a flea's-worth of doubt in front of his clan._

Next to the large tabby shape of Fallowstar, Echosky clambered up to stand by her leader's side. Her normally bright blue eyes were dull with fatigue, and looking at her closely, Piketail could see that her striped silver pelt was dirty and unkempt. She must have been exhausted from caring for sick cats for the past couple of weeks, with even more stumbling in, rancid with the mysterious disease.

The two high-ranking cats waited for everyone who was in camp to congregate before jumping immediately into the issue at hand. Fallowstar, always being more of a strong and silent type, briefly collected his clan's attention before turning to his medicine cat.

_Can't he see that she's beat?_  Piketail wondered. I  _would never have forced another cat to address a whole clan of cats in such a weakened state._   _I guess, even though father is older and experienced, he still makes mistakes._

"RiverClan," Echosky meowed out, her voice struggling to sound energized, cracking ever so slightly, "As you know, a few of our clan mates have fallen ill this Newleaf, but I want to assure you all that it is merely a late bout of Whitecough. Nonetheless, if any of you start coughing or feeling ill, please try to put aside your pride, and come see me right away to be treated. RiverClan needs its warriors to stay strong."

"If it's only Whitecough, then why have Lynxfur and Pale-eye been sick for weeks?" Mottlednose, an older warrior, piped up.

Piketail saw the shock mingled with horror spring into Echosky's eyes, and without a second thought, he interjected, "Leave her alone! She knows what she's doing."

Mottlednose shot Piketail a look of contempt and opened his mouth to retort, before remembering the gray tom's connection with Fallowstar and dropping the conversation. On the hill, Echosky let out an almost indiscernible sigh of relief.

"Yes, it's true," the bedraggled medicine cat continued, "I honestly wasn't sure what sickness it was because we usually never see Whitecough this far out of Leaf-bare. So, when I first saw it, I treated them just with some tansy flowers and honey, for their coughs. But then I noticed that Pale-eye had some of the symptoms of Greencough, so I started treating all the sick cats with coltsfoot and catmint. Pale-eye is still the only one who could possibly be diagnosed with Greencough, everything else is just Whitecough. Everyone should be well again in no time at all. Just remember what I said before—if you start feeling ill, come tell me right away to get treated."

With that, Fallowstar dismissed the clan with a flick of his tail, though once again his eyes met with Piketail's.

_Does he want to talk to me?_  the gray tabby warrior speculated.  _I guess I should go find out_.

As his clan mates dispersed, Piketail padded over to Fallowstar's side as the large tabby leader bounded down the hill. Fallowstar's yellow eyes glinted into his son's copper ones with a mixture of concern and fatherly pride. If there was anything that the dark gray leader was garrulous about, it was his two children.

"How are you, Piketail?" the RiverClan leader asked, flicking his son's shoulder with his faintly striped tail, "It was very kind of you to defend Echosky, earlier. You and Frostpetal never cease to make me so proud of you. Especially you, son. You've grown into such a fine young tom."

Piketail's chest swelled from the compliments, but in all truthfulness, his mind was analyzing every tiny detail of his father's being—the tone of Fallowstar's voice; what he said; his stance; how his short, dark fur, littered with faint stripes, and the patch of white on his chest, were all carefully groomed to make him look noble and leader-like. How many of his nine lives had Fallowstar lost? What tiny, crucial mistakes had Fallowstar made when he received those claw marks on his flank or the bite wound on his neck, both now scarred over and barely visible beneath his charcoal coat? Why was Fallowstar made leader of RiverClan in the first place? What qualities, which Piketail may have inherited, did Fallowstar possess that made him so fit to head a clan and be loved and admired by his clan mates? How could he,  _Piketail_ , do it better?

_Pikestar. They will all hail me as Pikestar, famed not only for the loyalty and willingness that christened me as a warrior, but for my undeniable talent for leading a clan. This has to be my destiny…why didn't I see it before?_

"Piketail?"

Shaken from his reverie, Piketail remembered that his father had asked him a question.

"I'm great, Dad…been keeping Swallowstorm in check, making sure he doesn't harass many she-cats…oh, uh, and Prickleclaw talked to me a couple weeks ago about my warrior name. He told me that cats given the ending '-tail', are named that way because they're thought to be natural leaders. Is that true?"

"Prickleclaw is a wise, old thistle-head of a tom, but I have no clue what he was tellin' you about," Fallowstar answered, but Piketail noticed the gleam of delight and jest in his father's eyes.  _So, it_ is _true_.

There was a semi-comfortable silence that followed as Piketail sidled closer to his father and laid down, his flank pressing up against Fallowstar's as they gazed out over the RiverClan camp. After a while, Piketail couldn't help but press, "Do you think I will be leader after you? Is that why you named me Pike _tail_?"

Fallowstar blinked down at his son in surprise, but Piketail wasn't paying any attention to him, his eyes were all for the happenings of his clan laid out before him. Did Fallowstar notice the ambition glittering in those copper eyes—the same amber-orange as his passed mate's? Could she see her kits now as she walked the stars in Silverpelt? She hadn't had much time to spend with them before StarClan claimed her as their own. Nor had her two children grown very close to Roseflower, who had fostered them beside her own kits at the time (though it was through this relationship that Piketail had become good friends with Swallowstorm). What would she have thought of them? Mentally, Fallowstar was forced to admit to himself, neither of them were anything like her.

Petalpool, a namesake which he had graced his only daughter with, she had been the sweetest cat Fallowstar had ever met. She was compassionate and gentle to those she loved, and yet she also harbored a fierce pride in her clan which she had always defended with as much ferocity as a LionClan warrior. They had wanted kits for moons, but neither time nor luck had ever seemed to be on their side. That was until about 15 moons ago, when she had finally announced to him that she was pregnant. However, age had taken its toll on her body, as she was near to retiring; Fallowstar himself was now older than any of the current senior warriors. Her body never recovered from the stress of birthing her two beautiful kits, and after two weeks of slowly wasting away, StarClan called for her to join them. Though Fallowstar had tried to raise his kits to be more like her, the way his children acted offered little to no resemblance. Frostpetal was incontestably vain and could be sharp-tempered—nothing like her slow-to-anger mother. Piketail was worse; by the time his son was nearing warriorhood, Fallowstar finally realized that he had only taught him what the qualities of a leader are, and not how to properly apply them. Nonetheless, Fallowstar hadn't been worried about his son's ambitions until this very moment, as Piketail lay beside him with that violent tenacity clouding his gaze. But he couldn't force himself to be angry with his son. Really, what else had he expected from the brash gray tabby cat?

Finally, Fallowstar replied, "I…I think that a lot of cats…are influenced by you, and the more you grow, the greater the chance that they will look up to you for guidance. I think that you have a lot of confidence in yourself and the determination to achieve whatever dreams you have in mind. If you desire to be leader, then no matter what, maybe after me, maybe after the leader after me, if that's your dream, then you have the ability to reach it."

It wasn't really the answer Piketail wanted to hear, but he chocked it up to an old tom cat trying to sound wise in front of his kin.

All this discussion of names had kindled a new curiosity in Piketail, and even though he would have been content to let his father continue to dote on him, he decided to slightly change the subject.

"What was your warrior name, Dad?"

"Huh?" once again Fallowstar was caught off guard by a question from his son, "Oh, my warrior name was Fallowpath. Callastar never told me what it meant, but if I were ever to name a warrior with '-path', I would say that cat was one who was always looking forward with a willingness to devote all their strength and skill to their clan. At least, I think that's what Callastar saw in me. I was always so caught up in giving everything I had to RiverClan, she had to remind me to take a step back sometimes and appreciate the world around me. If she hadn't prompted me to, err, pay attention to my surroundings, I would never have noticed your mother, and I would never have considered becoming a father."

Fallowstar purred in remembrance, letting out a deep chuckle. Piketail smiled up at his father. He would never have pictured his father as such a go-getter, always throwing all of his energy into his clan. He'd only ever known Fallowstar to be calm, collected, and precise, albeit a little too soft at times.

"You must have been as noble of a warrior as you are a leader," the gray tabby warrior meowed.

"Thank you, son," Fallowstar rumbled back, reaching down to give Piketail a swift lick on his shoulder, "I'm surprised at how healthy you still look with this extended shortage of prey. You'll have to keep going out hunting and patrolling. RiverClan needs your strength. Why don't you take Acornwhisker across to the Gathering island? You may have better luck fishing over there, and Sandystream looks like she's getting sick of that silly tom worrying himself over her."

Piketail glanced over to where his friend was standing, pestering his pregnant mate with questions concerning her well-being. Sure enough, Sandystream's dark amber eyes were the picture of annoyance. As Piketail got up to go drag Acornwhisker away from the irritated queen, he suddenly remembered that tonight  _was_  the Gathering and turned back to ask his father if he could attend.

Fallowstar chuckled again, nodding his head.

"Of course, Piketail," but then his smile faded and he let out a heavy sigh, "I think tonight will be a very interesting Gathering indeed."

Piketail was standing silently in the lake, the water lapping up to graze his belly fur from time to time. Even off of the Gathering island, the water levels were much lower than they should have been. A stretch of sand, stone, and dead lake weeds was visible where it should have been completely submerged. Down the shore a-ways, yet within earshot, Acornwhisker sat staring out across the dilapidated lake. The normally level-headed brown tabby looked tense and brooding, and Piketail was painfully aware that Acornwhisker could not just easily shake off his anxiety for his mate.

Seeing as there were no fish around to be caught anyways, the muscular gray warrior splashed back up the sandy edge of the Gathering island and sidled up to his friend. Even though Piketail could see the lankier tom's ribs, he was reminded of how tall Acornwhisker was—certainly taller than Piketail, himself.

"Hey," he nudged Acornwhisker awkwardly, "Don't worry too much about Sandystream. She's stronger than you give her credit for."

When Acornwhisker turned to face the gray tabby, the anger in his friend's green eyes surprised Piketail almost as much as the scathing words that left Acornwhisker's mouth next.

"And what would you know about having a mate or kits on the way? Why would you care if the whole clan is being consumed by sickness and hunger? The only things you can ever feel are arrogance and greed! Piketail, we both know you wouldn't give a carp's tail if Fallowstar up and died as long as you were next in line!"

"That's wrong!" Piketail snapped back, "How dare you say such a thing to me?"

However, in the deepest, darkest corner of Piketail's brain, his refute sounded like a lie. He  _just knew_ he could be a better leader than any cat, even his own father.

"How  _dare_  I?" Acornwhisker growled, "You're not the deputy! You always acted like you were better than everyone else, even when we were apprentices together! You did whatever you wanted, and if you got into trouble, you just used your connection to Fallowstar to get out of punishment! You were a show-off, but even that was more bearable than the way you've been acting since you got your warrior name! I don't think you realized it back then, but now that you  _know_ —you know your ambition is to become the leader of RiverClan—you've started acting like you're the noblest cat StarClan has ever graced the clans with. The elders tell horror stories about cats like you who were willing to do anything for power. I'm scared for you, Piketail, but more than that, I'm scared for all of us. If you keep walking down this path, you will never be a great leader…a-and Swallowstorm even agrees with me over this."

"What am I agreein' with?"

The voice came from behind them and both toms whipped around in bewilderment at the approach of their patch-coated friend.

Stung by the torrential rant of hurtful comments delivered by Acornwhisker, Piketail was the first to respond, his fur ruffled and voice crackling with fury, "He's all so worked up about Sandystream and the clan's  _minor case of Whitecough_  that he felt the need to belittle and insult me!"

"Don't act like you know anything about what I'm going through!" Acornwhisker shot back, his tail lashing back and forth.

Before Piketail could launch a retort, he was stopped in his tracks by Swallowstorm.

"Ladies, ladies! The only thing two respectable toms should be fightin' over is  _ladies_! Capiche? 'Sides, I can't have my two best buds squabblin'. Acornwhisker, I understand that you've got a lot of stress in your life at the moment, but that's no reason to take it out on some other cat. An' Piketail, he  _is_  right about one thing: don't let your pride blind you from problems others may be suffering from—compassion is key."

The entire time Swallowstorm was speaking, the black and white warrior had such a serious, scolding expression on his face that it was almost comical. Yet the look on Acornwhisker's face had melted into one of shame. He turned to Piketail guiltily, his muzzle lowered.

"Dear StarClan, I'm so sorry Piketail," he murmured, "Swallowstorm's totally right; I'm just so stressed out and worried about Sandystream getting sick. None of what I said was true…please, please…forgive me."

Though his friend's biting words still clawed at his angry heart, Piketail forced himself to lay his tail across Acornwhisker's shoulder, "I'm sorry too. Why don't we all try fishing together? I'm sure that would ease a lot of stress for Sandystream, if you could bring her back a nice piece of fresh-kill."

The brown tabby tom nodded, and all three warriors focused their attentions on the lake. As they all stood out a few rabbit-lengths into the chilly water, Piketail found his curiosity peaking, though he was still pretty furious at what Acornwhisker had accused him of. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but address Swallowstorm with the question that was increasingly burning a hole in the back of his mind.

"How did you do that Swallowstorm? Where'd you learn to break up a fight like that?"

The black and white tom grinned toothily back at him, "The ladies, of course! Like, duh! If you wanna keep a molly, you gotta learn how to shut things down if they're trying to start a spat."

Both Acornwhisker and Piketail couldn't help but chuckle at Swallowstorm's incorrigible quirks. Piketail was relieved to see that his brown tabby friend seemed to have reverted back to his usual, level-headed self, though beneath the short-tempered gray warrior's skin, vehemence at the memory of Acornwhisker's biting words still bubbled. Swallowstorm laughed along with them, that was until he broke into a fit of coughing.

Though the black and white patched tom tried to repress his heaving coughs by burying his muzzle in his shoulder, the tension surrounding the three friends was palpable once again. Acornwhisker splashed over to Swallowstorm's side, but Piketail stood still with worry.  _Is he sick too? I probably shouldn't get close, just in case…this is really bad._

"I…*cough*…I'm…*cough, cough*…I'm fine," Swallowstorm wheezed out, his eyes watering, "Just…*cough*…a bug…*cough*…flew in me throat."

"Are you sure?" Acornwhisker meowed, uneasiness evident in his voice.

Even with his muzzle screwed up painfully as he continued to hack off and on, Swallowstorm grinned up at his friends insistently, "…ugh…positive."

After choking out a few more, lighter coughs, Swallowstorm's breathing eased up again and he rasped, "See?"

Both Acornwhisker and Piketail continued to stare at the black and white warrior with suspicion and concern, but it was clear that Swallowstorm would not allow them to stay focused on the matter. He strutted past his friends into deeper water and paddled around, sending up noisy splashes directed at the two stone-faced tom cats.

Piketail sputtered as some of the murky lake water hit him directly in the muzzle. Swallowstorm was obviously going out of his way to prove that he was just fine. Even if he wasn't, there was nothing Piketail could have done to stop him—he knew his patch-coated friend was too wild and carefree. That's why Swallowstorm was constantly getting himself into trouble, even as a full-grown warrior sometimes.

"Well, if there weren't any fish around before, there definitely aren't any now," Acornwhisker growled at the irksome tom still pelting water this way and that.

Between the three young toms, they had only managed to catch a sickly-looking baby bass and two measly minnows. By now the sun was starting to set, and Piketail realized that they needed to head back to camp before other clans started heading over for the Gathering. What would the other clans have said if they saw RiverClan hunting off a territory that was supposed to be shared by all? It would probably be an invitation for attack, seeing how weak the clan of swimmers was. Piketail especially, could not allow such a thing to happen. The trio of RiverClan warriors trotted back to their camp, sodden and defeated, though Piketail noticed Swallowstorm struggle to pad ahead of him and Acornwhisker, still trying to attest to his good health.

"Are either of you going to the Gathering tonight?" Acornwhisker called out, loudly enough for Swallowstorm to hear a few paces ahead.

The black and white tom stopped momentarily and shook his head, doing his best to look confident and not sick, "I'm kinda tired. I was out training Mosspaw all morning, so I'll probably just head off to my nest."

"I'm going," Piketail told them, "I asked Fallowstar earlier."

"I think I'll stay behind to watch over Sandystream," Acornwhisker admitted.

"Hmm," Swallowstorm hummed, "Actually, I think you should go. To keep your eye on Piketail, ya know?"

"I'm not an apprentice," Piketail growled back jokingly, though in his mind he almost wished that Acornwhisker would stay back at camp. He needed time to forgive the brown tabby's words from before.

"Yeah, okay," Acornwhisker conceded, "I guess I'll go. It should be fine as long as I bring Sandy some prey and make sure all is well."

Swallowstorm smiled tiredly at the two toms and nodded his head. The rest of the journey back to the RiverClan clearing was silent.

Once they had returned to camp, Acornwhisker carried the bass over to Sandystream and the other queens, and Swallowstorm cantered over to shove himself between Ibiswing and Jadesong: two young RiverClan she-cats. He greeted them both with a crooked smile, but it was quickly clear that neither of them were in the mood to humor the winning black and white tom. For the first time in, well, ever, Piketail was shocked to see Swallowstorm give up almost right away, and his patch-pelted friend staggered away from the she-cats, disappearing into the warrior's den. Something was definitely off with this scene, and it wasn't just Jadesong who was coughing again, now much harder than she had been yesterday, but with Swallowstorm too. Piketail couldn't help but feel his unease continue to grow.

_But I can't say_ anything  _about what I heard Echosky saying_ , he remembered,  _a good leader doesn't cause his clan to panic needlessly_.

The hot-headed gray tabby warrior hardly listened as Fallowstar called out the names of those invited to go to the Gathering. Prickleclaw; Birdbelly; Hemlocktail; Ibiswing; Jadesong (too stubborn to stay behind); Acornwhisker; Piketail himself; Deltapaw; Hailpaw; Mistpaw; and Oatpaw. None of the elders were able to attend this time as they were either too ill or too old. Even Sleekstorm, a middle-aged she-cat who had retired early due to a chronic disease didn't tag along; though she often still did her best to try hunting for the clan. Echosky wasn't going either, opting to stay back to continue treating the sick cats. Without all of them, the little group of warriors and apprentices felt barren and incomplete.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and night began to creep up the sky, the RiverClan cats all left together and Piketail found himself retracing his steps back to the Gathering island. Crossing the tree bridge back over to the island was done without a thought, and not once did the muscular gray warrior's paws slip on the slick bark. Once there, the marshy stench of ShadowClan filled his nostrils. He glanced scornfully around the clearing at the ragged-furred, pine dwelling cats. One face stood out right away—Slicktail.

Beside him, Acornwhisker nudged his shoulder and whispered, "Don't pay that piece of rat-dung any attention."

The RiverClan warriors folded into the crowd of ShadowClan warriors like waves on the lake lapping into one another. Fallowstar and Amberstar convened near the tree where they addressed the clans, sharing quiet greetings.

Piketail decided to stay close to Acornwhisker's side and the two toms sat down on the edge of the clearing, waiting patiently for the Gathering to start. It wasn't long before WindClan showed up, and finally ThunderClan as well.

Every single cat present looked somehow down and defeated. The ThunderClan cats seemed especially bedraggled, their bones showing clearly beneath their pelts. WindClan looked skinnier than usual, and—ever since the last Leaf-fall—their numbers had declined after the battles with RiverClan over prey-theft. It was in one of those battles that Piketail could plainly remember getting the scar across his right shoulder from a vicious WindClan bite. He had been a pretty young apprentice at the time, but he had fought valiantly—skilled for such an inexperienced cat. His fighting prowess had only grown better as time went on. Even though Prickleclaw had expressed doubts about him beating Slicktail when they had talked a few weeks ago, Piketail was certain he could hammer the crooked black warrior into the dirt. If this weren't a Gathering, he would have done it right then and there too; anything to regain his lost dignity from his embarrassing encounter with the ShadowClan tom.

Despite those shameful memories rekindling in Piketail's angry head, he couldn't help but notice that the ShadowClan cats looked to be in poor health too. Though they weren't wearing skin over their bare skeletons like the ThunderClan cats, their ribs were visible beneath their fur, and many of them were unkempt, their claws clotted with dried mud and their pelts dirty. Among them, he spotted a cream tabby queen who looked the worst of all the ShadowClan warriors. Though her pelt was groomed half-heartedly, her dark amber eyes were the picture of a deep, murky depression. In all truthfulness, the fact that every single clan was suffering stood out like a fish that had sprouted wings.

So, it went without saying that the usual cacophony of the Gathering was more of dim throb on this very night. It didn't take long for the leaders to clamber up into the tree, the ThunderClan leader, Maplestar, helping to propel WindClan's far more ancient leader, Hickorystar, up to his post. The poor, old gray tabby nearly didn't make it. Even Piketail felt himself let out a sigh of relief when the elderly tom finally got situated safely.

With the full moon backlighting the clearing under a veil of creamy, white light, the Gathering began as Amberstar called for every cat's attention.

"Greetings everyone! I would like to begin the Gathering by announcing the birth of five new kittens, all healthy, the kin of Fernberry and Mudtalon. There were two she-cats and three toms in the litter and they have been christened: Shinekit, Blackkit, Dapplekit, Molekit, and Cloudkit."

A few of the ShadowClan cats whistled out the name of Mudtalon, who Piketail presumed was the dark gray-brown tabby sitting across the clearing with his chest puffed out in pride.

Amberstar continued, "Besides that, though ShadowClan admittedly struggled a bit through the arduous Leaf-bare, StarClan has been kind to us and we have fully recovered our strength, if not, grown even stronger as Newleaf has melted away the last of the frost."

As she said those words, the tip of Amberstar's mottled tail twitched nervously. Piketail could tell that most of it was a lie, and the way some of the ShadowClan warriors glanced away or down at their paws only solidified the suspicions in his mind. Of course, Amberstar would want to put on a front of being well-equipped to handle any cat who might be thinking of foul play, but in such a sorry state, could any of the clans really pull something like that off? If anything, ShadowClan would be the one to prey on the weaker clans, seeing how underfed and sickly the other warriors looked.

"That is all the news I have for ShadowClan," Amberstar meowed, sitting back down on her tree branch and dipping her head at the three other leaders.

Fallowstar stood up next.

"Is it alright if I go now?" he asked, his voice terse, "I have something important to say."

Maplestar nodded his head in a gesture that read as though it were meant to speak for both him and Hickorystar, "But of course, Fallowstar. Go ahead."

_What is he going to say?_  Piketail wondered.  _He'd be foolish to reveal how much we're struggling right now. I swear, if he gives anything away I'll—_

But his train of thought was cut off as Fallowstar began speaking, "Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you Amberstar, and ShadowClan, on the new additions to your clan. The birth of new kits is always something to celebrate and I send my sincerest hope, or rather, I'm quite sure, that they will grow to be brilliant warriors."

Fallowstar looked so serene in saying this, and it reminded Piketail of how much his father truly valued young cats and their potential.  _I mean, sure they're something to value, but he doesn't need to be so soft about it. Does he always sound like a mooning kittypet when he mentions kits? I guess I just never noticed this weakness of his. Oh well, no cat is perfect…though I would expect a_ good _leader to not behave so emotionally when his clan is in a such a poor position and faced by cats who could decide to drive us out at any possible moment. At the very least, it seems like he picked up on Amberstar's lies._

"In RiverClan, one of our queens, Sandystream, is due to have her kits before the next full moon."

Next to Piketail, Acornwhisker was near bursting with gratification, and even though Piketail still resented the lanky brown tom from their argument earlier, he couldn't help but feel a sliver of happiness for his young friend worm its way into his heart.

"Also, RiverClan has two new warriors. What's more is that they're my kin! Piketail is here tonight, while Frostpetal opted to stay back in camp. Either way, I could not be prouder of them," Fallowstar mewed.

Eyes turned to face Piketail, and he ducked his head down, his fur growing hot and ears turned back with embarrassment. Why did Fallowstar have to dote on him during the Gathering? As cats around him cheered his and Frostpetal's new names, he caught a glimpse of another cat sneering at him on the other side of the island.  _Slicktail!_  The jet-black tom's orange eyes blazed with amusement, as if Fallowstar had just told a side-splitting joke.  _He remembers me_ , Piketail realized,  _good. I'll never let him forget me! Especially when a shove his carp-tailed muzzle into the mud!_

Before Acornwhisker could notice the fury boiling in his friend's eyes, but likewise before Piketail could get to his paws and hurl himself rashly at his ShadowClan rival, Fallowstar said something that shocked every cat present at the Gathering.

"Lastly, and most importantly, I must ask you all for help," Fallowstar admitted, lowering his head. His pale, yellow eyes darkened, losing their signature composure.

Whispers of surprise and apprehension arose from the crowd of warriors.  _What in StarClan's name is he talking about?!_  Piketail gawked up at his father in horror.

"Any cat with two working eyes and a nose can tell that all of us are struggling" Fallowstar continued, his voice strong, though Piketail could hear it waver just the tiniest bit, "The lake has not filled out as it does every Newleaf, and there are very few fish to be caught. Though the frosts have dissipated, plants have not sprung up as readily as they usually do, and so even ground-dwelling prey is scarce. I can see it in the eyes of every cat here: RiverClan is not the only one suffering. Besides the prey shortage, I regret to inform you that some of my warriors have taken ill with a late bout of Whitecough. That being the reason Echosky is not here tonight. Though they're expected to make a full recovery in a short amount of time, RiverClan needs as many able-bodied warriors as it can get in order to feed the entire clan."

_Why is he telling them all this?_  Piketail's brain was reeling in turmoil and dismay at his father revealing the weakness of RiverClan.  _Your clan mates are relying on you to keep them safe and you're leaving us vulnerable by openly spilling information about our clan's handicap! Please, Dad, redact all the nonsense you're spewing and show the other clans that RiverClan is as strong as ever!_

But Piketail's silent plea was not to be honored.

"And just what are you proposing we all do to help  _RiverClan_?" Amberstar questioned, her silken voice laced with a threat, "Did you not just hear me say that ShadowClan is thriving? Or have you got feathers in your ears, Fallowstar? In what way would ShadowClan benefit from your plan? And I know that you've got one!"

"But of course, Amberstar," Fallowstar responded dryly, "As I'm sure all of you have heard the story of the beavers our ancestors drove away many moons ago, I'll spare you most of the details. As you'll remember, there was once a time when the lake was drying up and every cat from every clan was hungry and incredibly,  _incredibly_ thirsty. Each clan sent two warriors upstream to find that the river feeding the lake was being blocked by large animals building a structure made of trees and mud. Together, the warriors from all four clans drove off the creatures and broke through their dam, and all the water returned to the lake. I am wondering if, perhaps, after so many years have passed, those creatures have come back and are blocking the stream again. That would certainly explain how shallow the lake has grown and how little fish have returned. I think it would be in the best interest of every clan to follow in the paw steps of our ancestors and send two cats apiece upstream to investigate."

"Pshh, that's just a tall tale told by elders," Amberstar hissed, though interest sparked in her eyes.

"It is not!" a creaky voice rasped out from the crowd. Piketail glanced over to see an elderly ginger tabby she-cat, Furledleaf, rise shakily to her paws, "Don't be frog-brained, daughter! I raised you better than that."

Annoyance sprouted in Amberstar's eyes, but she didn't retort back to her mother. Piketail couldn't help but chuckle inwardly,  _I guess even leaders still have to listen to their parents_. Though he also realized with a twinge of regret,  _I wouldn't have to…if I were leader, that would mean Fallowstar was already dead_.

"I see no issue with it," Hickorystar rasped out from his spot on the great oak tree.

"Please," Fallowstar insisted, staring straight into the fiery depths of Amberstar's eyes, "It will only be to scout, not to confront the problem. They should be back within a week. You would be exemplifying your capacity for nobility by helping the rest of the clans. As you know, if one of the clans falls, the rest will follow shortly thereafter. We were all taught that as apprentices. And like I said, this is just as a precautionary measure. If there really is something blocking the stream again, we can't just ignore it. We need to stop this, before it's too late."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact #1: Even though Piketail and Frostpetal were mothered by Roseflower alongside her kit (now Swallowstorm), neither have ever considered Roseflower as a maternal figure nor Swallowstorm as a brother. Swallowstorm has always been just a really close friend to Piketail.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: Acornwhisker said it once in this chapter, but he shortens his mate's name to just "Sandy" as a term of endearment.
> 
> And, a bonus question/food for thought. Do you think that Prickleclaw telling Piketail the meaning behind his warrior name was a good thing or a bad thing?


	7. Chapter 6: Past, Present, and Future

CHAPTER 6

"We need to stop this, before it's too late," Fallowstar insisted from his perch in the Gathering tree. His words were directed mainly at Seedshine's leader: Amberstar.

The ShadowClan leader may have been young, but by no means was she stupid, and Seedshine had gained a lot of respect for her after the pragmatism and warmth she'd been shown after discovering her pregnancy as an apprentice. Amberstar had acted very motherly then, even though the beautiful, tortoiseshell she-cat had never had kits of her own, or even really showed interest in taking a mate. The compassion and wisdom she'd demonstrated were proof that she was well-suited for leadership.

Furthermore, Amberstar hadn't spoken a word about Seedshine's miscarriage at the Gathering, and for that, the grieving queen was immensely grateful. Of course, Seedshine knew that her even being invited to the Gathering was probably just another way to try to distract her from the loss she'd suffered. Nonetheless, it now just seemed characteristic of Amberstar's good judgment. As Seedshine watched her leader, she could almost see the chain of thoughts running through the prudent she-cat's head.

Sure, it was true that every clan was suffering, but ShadowClan were probably in the best shape of all of them. The other clans were clearly hungry; the ThunderClan cats were mostly skin and bones, WindClan were unhealthfully lean, and if the river still hadn't shown signs of returning to its former glory then RiverClan would be in even more trouble, especially with Whitecough in their camp. Even though ShadowClan had a bit more strength, two warriors out travelling would be more than enough for the pine forest clan to be overwhelmed should the other clans start a coup for territory. It would only take two of the other clans allying together and they would immediately have a huge advantage with their numbers, despite how much they all were currently struggling. Amberstar was being cautious, that much was very apparent. She was searching out Fallowstar's true intentions. Seedshine had seen her do this with a couple of ShadowClan toms when they had inevitably started mooning after the beautiful tortie.

After so much time spent in the medicine den, a lot of it spent watching the medicine cats go about their work, Seedshine found herself accustomed to observation, discovering that there was an art to it. She caught herself copying Amberstar, analyzing Fallowstar's expression, seeking out any sign of dishonesty in the RiverClan tom's expression. From the little Seedshine could remember, her clanmates had always portrayed RiverClan's current leader as reasonable and sincere, with a bit of an obvious soft spot for kits and apprentices. She couldn't recall a time when ShadowClan had scorned Fallowstar for any serious misgiving. If there was ever any quarrel between the neighbor clans, it was usually over prey theft, and, though Seedshine was loathe to admit it, usually the fault of one from her own clan. She had never thought very deeply about it before, but in that brief moment of silence as Amberstar and Fallowstar stared each other down, her mind drifted over the social and political aspects of ShadowClan. There had not been any significant wars, tragedies, or major shift in allegiances between the four clans for many moons now. After the legendary battle with the Dark Forest, and a mighty flood, the clans eventually sidled into a long period of peace. Great and noble leaders headed their respective clans for countless years. Though there were still disputes, the worst of the dangers seemed over, and the clans generally shared a mutual respect for one another, often coming through to offer support in times when it was needed. However, most ShadowClanners saw this as the clans going soft.

Of the four clans, ShadowClan had done its best to maintain its signature darkness and hostility. The cats of the marshy pine forest were still as proud as ever, and they clung desperately to the olden times. Some even went as far to suggest that the ShadowClan of the past was far better than it was now, even though they were fully aware of some of the atrocities ShadowClan cats had committed. They knew of Brokenstar, the kit killer, Redwillow, who fought his own clanmates as an ally of the Dark Forest, and worst of all, Tigerstar, a former ThunderClan cat who took over ShadowClan in a time of struggle and tried to usurp power over all the clans while also slaughtering any cats with mixed heritage. He was one of the most powerful leaders in the Dark Forest's attack on the living clans. How any cat could think that was the true meaning of glory was beyond Seedshine's imagination. That was why she had been so terrified to announce her young pregnancy to her clanmates. Many of them were intent to live like the old ShadowClan, and no matter how much they claimed it was for the sake of the Warrior Code, Seedshine knew that was only what they wanted to believe. When had ShadowClan ever held the Code in such high regard, at least in comparison to the other clans? It was about holding onto what they were used to and trying to live up to all her clanmates believed had made them the most feared cats in the forest.

_I guess, ShadowClan will always have its pride_ , Seedshine thought. Not that she, herself, wasn't proud of her clan. She loved ShadowClan fiercely as she could, and she would always protect her clanmates… _and my kits…_

Familiar sadness welled up in her chest, but just before it could drown her, a sharp hiss of resignation from Amberstar dragged her attention back to the leaders.

"Fine, you've twisted my tail Fallowstar," the ShadowClan leader growled in clear distaste, "Two warriors from each clan, no more and no less. They will meet at the border between ShadowClan and ThunderClan, at the river, sun-high tomorrow. Your warriors may pass through ShadowClan territory per the usual rules, staying within three tail-lengths of the shore."

Here, Amberstar paused, gazing over to where the majority of her cats sat watching her intently. She flicked her tail into the crowd, "From my clan, Thornscar and Slicktail will go."

Neither of these decisions shocked Seedshine terribly. What with the other leaders seemingly agreeing to Fallowstar's request, Amberstar would be showing how much she feared for ShadowClan's strength if she too did not acquiesce. Thornscar and Slicktail were reasonable choices as well. Thornscar was clever, having become adept at battle strategy after being nearly killed by a fox during his youth, not to mention he'd overcome the disadvantage of having a snow-white pelt. Slicktail was tough and aggressive, one of those cats who claimed to cling onto ShadowClan's past. However, there were very few cats who actually willfully offered him company. He had the tendency to be brutish, loud, and cruel, and he behaved so childishly one would most certainly not suspect the brilliant, conniving mind he kept somewhere in his thick skull. By sending him on the journey, it would give ShadowClan a bit of respite from his vulgarity, and it meant that, at the very least, if they could endure his presence, the questing cats would have his impressive skill in battle at their disposal. Besides, Seedshine knew Thornscar well enough to know that the older warrior would keep her other clanmate in check, for even though the white-furred tom was just, he wouldn't tolerate any nonsense from Slicktail.

The rest of ShadowClan seemed to agree with Amberstar's choice, as nobody interjected. The only exchanges amongst Seedshine's clanmates were a nauseating look of pride from Slicktail and a solemn nod from Thornscar.

"What about you, Maplestar?" Amberstar grunted, clearly wanting to divert everyone's attention away from herself now, "You haven't said anything about this yet! You've just sat there looking agreeable. What do you have to say?"

The skinny ThunderClan leader rose from perch on the Gathering tree. Seedshine could have counted the ribs on the brown tabby tom if she had wanted to. From the two other Gatherings she had attended, she certainly didn't remember him ever looking this pathetic. Nevertheless, he stood with an air of nobility—an attempt to appear sturdy and leaderlike. Though Seedshine had heard tell from the older ShadowClan warriors that Maplestar often acted entitled and stridently gallant, she respected his front of strength in order to bolster the confidence of his clearly suffering clan.

"I have no qualms with this small journey Amberstar. I trust Fallowstar has the best interest of all four clans in his heart. In all the years I've known him, I've not witnessed him act in a needlessly selfish manner. From ThunderClan, Shrewtuft and Browndapple will accompany your cats," the caramel-colored tom announced, his voice seeping with what sounded like heavily practiced grace.

Seedshine noted her leader's sharp glare at the ThunderClan tom.  _She thinks he's patronizing her because he's older…I honestly can't tell_.  _Not only that, but he made his choices rapidly. I'm not sure if he's just desperate for a possible solution to his clan's poor state or if he's scheming something and the two cats he's chosen are a strategic choice. Out of all the leaders, Maplestar is by far the dodgiest. From what I know of him, I think he's being sincere, but I still have my doubts about him._

Scanning the crowd of cats, Seedshine picked out the two who were most likely the chosen ThunderClan candidates. An older she-cat with a dark brown and ginger tortoiseshell pelt she knew to be Browndapple. The tortie looked more indifferent about her leader's choice than anything, mostly very tired. The other cat, Shrewtuft, was easy to guess at from his long fur and tufted ears. A ginger apprentice was gazing up at him with awe, but the earth-colored tom didn't acknowledge the younger cat, his green eyes narrowed in an unreadable expression.

A soft rustle of fur drew Seedshine's attention back to the leaders. Hickorystar, the massive, ancient leader of WindClan hadn't even bothered to stagger to his feet, he'd just shifted a fraction where he sat.

"I cannot deny Fallowstar's comment on the condition of my clan," the old tom rasped, "It is true that Leaf-bare has taken its toll on all of us, and WindClan is not excluded, though do not think we are too weak to defend ourselves, that would be a foolish assumption. That said, I see the wisdom in Fallowstar's proposal and I agree to send two of my clanmates along with to investigate. Knowledge of the river's well-being can only benefit all of us. From my clan, Sycamorefur and Columbineleaf will join the others. I know they will make WindClan proud."

The cats in question were a large black tom, his size surprising for a WindClan cat, and a silver tabby, respectively. Both were given licks and nuzzles of encouragement from their clanmates.  _WindClan really seems more like a family than the rest of us_ , Seedshine thought. As with Maplestar, she didn't know much about Hickorystar either besides the fact that he was one of the oldest cats amongst all four of the clans. He had to be either on, or close to, the last of his nine lives. He was rumored to have once been a magnificent cat: mighty, yet simple-minded and compassionate. Hickorystar didn't seem like one to question the depth of things, only to appreciate them. He had served his clan well for many years and was greatly respected for everything he had done to better the cats of the moorlands.

Finally, the spotlight was back on RiverClan's leader. Fallowstar's eyes gleamed with gratitude and Seedshine knew then that this plea was truly pure of intention. The dark gray tabby tom was surprisingly easy to read, despite generally being more stoic.

Naturally, Fallowstar began his statement graciously, "I cannot thank you all enough. I appreciate your support more than I can put into words. I swear by StarClan that I only desire to preserve the clans, and I hope more than anything that this short quest yields some valuable information, so that all of us may live more comfortably. The RiverClan cats that will go on the quest are Hemlocktail and Birdbelly. They have my complete faith; I know they will prove valuable and do their best for the sake of every clan."

There was a sudden, faint hiss from one of the gathered cats. Seedshine couldn't pick out who it was right away, as she had barely heard it, but she was quick to discover it was the gray tabby RiverClan tom that Fallowstar had congratulated earlier.  _That's Piketail—Fallowstar's son. Why is he upset?_

Truly, the newly named RiverClan warrior was boiling with rage too—his claws scraped into the ground with agitation and his copper eyes flashed with unbridled fury. On Seedshine's other side, she heard a familiar, distinctive sneering chuckle. Slicktail was eyeing the young RiverClan tom with scornful amusement.

_Oh, that's right. I kind of remember something from a while ago…about Slicktail goading a younger RiverClan cat at the border and almost getting attacked. I mean, I know my frog-dung excuse for a clanmate can be an absolute horror, but I can't say that the son of RiverClan's leader behaves with much maturity either I guess. I'll give him a bit of credit though considering he's much younger than Slicktail and StarClan knows that Slicktail has a heart of ice. I think…I think this all happened around the time when I had my…_ her thought trailed away into a sob that hitched itself silently in her throat.  _Right…_

Seedshine tried to shove the fresh wave of pain back down into her stomach so she could catch her breath, but it stayed put. Quickly, she flooded her mind with all the possibilities for the anger of the strange RiverClan tom, Piketail.

It seemed obvious that he had wanted to be a part of this journey, but she wondered what had been the root cause of the gray tabby's upset. Did he feel cheated by his father that he had not been given the opportunity to represent his clan in favor of other cats? Or had he actually been the one Slicktail had mocked at the border and now he desperately wanted a chance at revenge? Maybe he was just really enthusiastic about travel and was frustrated that he was being excluded. Piketail's face was turned away from her now and he seemed to have been calmed by a lanky brown tabby sitting next to him. Seedshine could no longer search the RiverClanner's expression for clues as to his mild outburst.

Though the overwhelming grief of her stillborn kits still nestled in the back of her mind, she found focusing on her surroundings to be a somewhat interesting distraction.

If Fallowstar had noticed his son's quiet fit of temper—and he had, for Seedshine noticed the brief flicker of anxiety leap through the RiverClan leader's eyes—he made no stir about it. Instead, he graciously thanked the clans for their offer of help and passed along his turn to speak to Hickorystar.

Seedshine wasn't really listening to what the elderly tabby leader announced, though. Inside her head, never-ending questions about the cats around her sparked in and out of existence. She was most curious about the family dynamic of the RiverClan leader and his newly named warrior son. They seemed…different, to say the very least. Of course, she had nothing to compare the RiverClan cats to as her own father had died before her mother had even given birth to her and her siblings.

Naturally, Seedshine had no memory of her father, and had needed to piece together a picture of him based solely upon the words of her fellow ShadowClanners. According to her clan mates, his name had been Fogbelly, and whilst her mother, named Raydapple, had been about middle-aged at the time she discovered her pregnancy, Fogbelly had been a senior warrior in comparison. He was rumored to have had fur as white as snow, much like Thornscar, who would be leaving tomorrow for the quest upriver. Unlike Thornscar though, Fogbelly was said to have been short and thickset. Apparently, he was somehow related to Furledleaf and Amberstar, which meant that Seedshine, also, was related to the ShadowClan leader and her mother, though she was uncertain in what way precisely. Of course, the generations of clan cats interwove with one another until every cat shared the blood of their clan mates in some way, unless of course they were descended from cats outside of the clans.

The death of Fogbelly had been one of great intrigue for the whole of ShadowClan. His body had been found washed up on the lake shore one day, not even a week after his mate had revealed herself to be carrying his kits. Wolfeye had declared the tom's cause of death as drowning, though it was ambiguous as to whether Fogbelly had suffered some sort of accident or had been forcibly held underwater until water filled his lungs and he suffocated. Seeing as he had been found closer to the RiverClan border, for a short time there was a rumor spread around the ShadowClan camp that Seedshine's father had been seeing a RiverClan she-cat in secret and had killed himself out of guilt at his own disloyalty. However, Seedshine's clan mates had reassured her a bit saying this seemed unlikely as Fogbelly was a notoriously wise and well-respected ShadowClanner, and loyal beyond a shadow of a doubt. His death, then, could have only ever been a murder, or simply a tragic accident. When RiverClan was questioned, they seemed to know nothing about it, and Fallowstar had offered his deepest condolences, sending the party of ShadowClan cats home with some prey and a few herbs as a show of respect for the lost warrior. After that though, ShadowClan seemed mostly to forget that the stocky white warrior had ever existed.

Raydapple, Seedshine's mother, hadn't forgotten though. Once a cheery-faced, eager warrior, most of her optimism had been sapped by the death of her mate, and so soon after finding out she was to bear his kits. Nevertheless, she did her best, remaining perceptive and affectionate of her kits. Her pelt had been as fiery golden as the sun's rays—hence her name—and laced with darker umber colored stripes. Though Raydapple had been killed by a fox when Seedshine and her sisters were only three moons old, Seedshine still had at least two clear memories of her mother; the first was that of looking up to see Raydapple's coat the hue of scorching flames. The she-cat had been dazzling to look at. The second was of her mother's voice, vibrant and strong; the queen had frequently expressed her love of her kits and of their father, saying he would be so very enamored with them if he were still alive.

Of Seedshine and her sisters, Redfire most resembled their mother, and Whitestream most resembled their father, but both of her siblings had Fogbelly's yellow eyes—Seedshine was the only one who possessed Raydapple's eyes of liquid amber.

After their mother's death, another queen, Chervilheart, had helped to look after the trio of three-moon-old kits, alongside her own kits which hadn't quite been born yet. Though Seedshine was grateful to the older tortoiseshell queen, she had always felt much closer to her siblings than to her new adoptive guardian. Chervilheart had never really felt like a motherly figure to her, and that was alright. The tortie she-cat was still very compassionate and kind to Seedshine and her sisters.

When the three orphaned she-cats finally became apprentices, a rift in their tightknit relationship started to form. They still stuck together of course, and they were more closely bonded to one another than to any of their ShadowClan clanmates, but being trained by different cats and running on different schedules gave them less time to spend with each other and more time to develop their own thoughts and attitudes.

Redfire had been apprenticed to Amberpool, who, only a week into the apprenticeship of the three sisters, received her nine lives and became Amberstar. Seedshine's ginger tabby sibling was quick to get lost in her strenuous training. Amberstar was meticulous and strict, and Redfire was well-suited for becoming an equally as impressive fighter. This also meant, however, that Redfire didn't have much time to get caught up in apprentice drama and romantic affairs. In fact, Redfire spent most of her days now helping the other apprentices with their training alongside her own apprentice, Hawkpaw. She was a talented warrior and a brilliant mentor; Seedshine had always admired her fiery determination and her devotion to helping her clanmates grow stronger.

On the other paw, there was Whitestream. Seedshine's other sister was short, stocky, and obsessed with toms. As an apprentice, Whitestream had always been the one mooning over one cat for a week before crushing on someone entirely different the next. She didn't take her training as seriously as either of her sisters, and it was blatantly obvious she was more interested in raising kits than actually being a warrior. Seedshine could respect this, as kits were always an important contribution to the clan, and she herself arguably wanted some of her own—if she didn't, she assumed her grief over her lost kittens would not cut into her as deeply as it did—as it continued to do.

Out of every cat in ShadowClan, Whitestream had been the most abhorred by the announcement of Seedshine's pregnancy. It had confused Seedshine at first, but when Whitestream was quick to enter the nursery shortly after their warrior ceremony, her reason for being so upset made sense. The small ivory colored queen was jealous. She'd dreamt of settling in with one of the ShadowClan toms and raising many litters of kittens and Seedshine had seemingly beat her to that. She hurriedly gave herself up to the first tom that showed promise as a mate and father, even though Seedshine knew Volestripe wasn't a cat of particular interest to her sister. The brown tabby tom was rather oblivious and dense when it came to she-cats, and thus had been enamored with Whitestream's advances. He held more traditional clan values, and had also scorned Seedshine's early pregnancy, which may have helped push him and Whitestream closer. Though, Seedshine noted internally, Whitestream had just barely received her warrior name before moving to the nursery. The disparity over her pregnancy was less based on her age, and more on Clan social norms and hierarchy; apprentices weren't supposed to get pregnant.

Despite the majority of ShadowClan being rather icy about Seedshine's pregnancy, there were a few who still showed her love and support. Fernberry, Snaketooth, and Wolfeye, of course, were all very kindhearted. Patchbelly, Seedshine's former mentor, was also incredibly considerate and open-minded. He was a middle-aged warrior, and one of ShadowClan's finest hunters, known for being very mild-mannered. He'd mentored a few apprentices, and Seedshine had found him to be well-suited to teaching. She imagined that, perhaps someday, Patchbelly could make a fine deputy.

Other warriors that, at the very least, hadn't exhibited derision at Seedshine's circumstances, included: Amberstar, Chervilheart, Screewhisker, Mudtalon, Batfang, and Falconfall. Fennelpaw, one of the apprentices Seedshine had trained beside, also continued to be friendly, for which the cream tabby queen was immensely appreciative.

When Seedshine thought about the cats who had showed her devotion when she broke unspoken clan ideals, she couldn't help but feel a tiny blossom of warmth in her chest. The four clans had clung to their way of life for countless moons, and that often made them averse to even the tiniest chink in their social norms. To still have the care of half of ShadowClan, well, Seedshine couldn't say her place in the clan was much different than it had been prior to her pregnancy. The only things she really missed were her sisters, and—she grimaced at the all-too-familiar pang of grief—the lost lives of her kits.

Before she could really realize it, the Gathering was over, and she was following her clanmates back to the ShadowClan camp. Just outside the entrance to the clearing, she was greeted by Snaketooth, who was apparently still wide awake despite it being very early morning. He touched his nose to her shoulder as she approached, pulling her to the side and muttering something about hunting to Screewhisker as the older warrior padded past. Once every cat was back in camp, and Seedshine and Snaketooth were alone, the tabby tom broke the silence.

"Let's go hunting," he whispered, "And then…well, I just want to spend some time with you."

Seedshine, her nose pressed into her mate's chest, could feel his heart rate speed up slightly. He was so shy and affectionate; she was reminded of how much she really adored Snaketooth. She reached up to lick the underside of his jaw as a sign that she was agreeing to this romantic time alone.

Together, they wandered through the darkness of the low-growing pines, the crisp blanket of rusty-colored needles was smooth beneath their paws. Hunting didn't last particularly long, as both of them were anxiously aware of the prey shortage in all the clans. Nevertheless, Snaketooth managed to find and catch a mouse, and Seedshine killed a few lonely crickets—they weren't much, but the kits and apprentices liked to crunch on them. Before they knew it, the sun was starting to creep up on the edges of the horizon. They found a spot near the lakeshore where they could watch it rising behind WindClan's territory across the ever-dwindling stretch of water.

Prey forgotten, Seedshine rested her muzzle across her mate's back contentedly. She could feel the light brown tabby's purr rumbling through his body, from his ears to the tip of his tail. This felt right.

That was until she caught the faint whiff of Snaketooth's fear scent: something was troubling him.

She raised her head from between his shoulder blades, "What's wrong?"

Snaketooth's purr cut short at her words, and when he glanced back at her, his honey-colored eyes were wide and tense. He was silent for a long moment, and then, "We need to talk…erm, I need to talk to you."

Seedshine felt a mingling of apprehension and curiosity. She tilted her head.

"Nothing, uh, bad!" Snaketooth quickly amended, his ears flattening abashedly, "It's just…serious, is all."

"What is it?" Seedshine pressed, her fretfulness starting to overwhelm inquisitiveness.

Again, Snaketooth was quiet for a few heartbeats, though this time it was clear he was trying to collect his thoughts and word them meticulously.

"This, is probably going to be a difficult subject for you, my love," he finally sighed out, "I know how much the loss of the kits kills you inside. Believe me, I feel it too."

Seedshine felt her throat begin to close, and she tried to breathe more deeply, but oxygen failed to enter her lungs properly. Suddenly she was standing back at that musty, desolate shore—the one she saw in her recurring nightmares. Whatever fluid filled the ebony expanse before her could not be water; it was pitch black and thick like sludge. Out of it trudged a tiny figure, and then another, and then another, each covered in the tarry filth. The oily liquid caked their slim forms, completely obscuring their fur…if they even had fur beneath the reeking offal. Seedshine thought they had to have fur, because the pitiful bodies creeping towards her were kit-shaped. She couldn't make out anything more of them than their general outline—not even their eyes, which were concealed by the foul slime. She could only hear their cries: whimpers of pain and utter fear, pleas for her warmth and comfort.

She wanted so badly to run to them and clutch them to her, clean their soiled pelts, take their hurts away, but she was frozen in place. Horror at the grotesque, corpse-like traipse of the kits was overwhelming; her paws refused to move.

Every time she had the dream they'd wander up the sand of the shore until they were only a fox-length away from her, and then something far more frightening would happen. The kit in the lead would stagger all of a sudden. Its movement lost the calculated lurch it had once had, becoming far more alive and kit-like. It took another weak step towards her, it's mewls becoming fainter and more desperate, until it collapsed onto the rank dredges of sand and vanished in a whirl of black smoke. Then, there came a sound of rushing from somewhere behind Seedshine, and still the cream-colored queen was horror-struck. The ground shook as the roaring of whatever monstrous thing grew quickly closer. A beam of light hit the second kit square in the chest, and it too forgot its lifeless, threatening gait. It stood upright at once, its ears flattening and tail bushing out beneath the mire. The light shining upon it expanded and brightened until it was as blinding as the whir of the beast approaching was deafening. Seedshine was flattened to the ground by a surge of stinking wind, and she only just had time to blink that out of her eyes in order to see the second kit's silhouette shatter and disappear as well.

Now there was only one figure still trudging mindlessly towards her. It seemed this one might actually reach her, until the waves of raven-colored mucus began to churn around its paws. As with the other two, it seemed to gain some semblance of consciousness, as its feet began to work harder and fight against the tug of the liquid. What was only seconds, felt to Seedshine like hours of watching the final kit struggle towards her while she crouched, completely immobilized. Then a massive tidal wave—tall enough to block out the sun, or moon, or whatever celestial being dimly illuminated this lake of dread—came crashing down over the kit and it, too, was gone. Seedshine was left to slash away at the thick, heavy waves dragging her down. The rancid fluid filled her ears and nose and muzzle, and smeared over her eyes until she was robbed of all senses but the feeling of being simultaneously pushed and pulled apart. Finally, she would feel her mouth break the surface, and that was when she would scream as loud as she could.

Only this time, Seedshine didn't scream, she just added her silence to the gentle curl of waves against the lakeshore of ShadowClan's pine forest territory. She listened, but did not speak.

"I think we should try for kits again," Snaketooth's words were as viscous as the tar-like substance that drowned her and the final kit in her nightmares.

In that moment it felt as though every last ounce of her body solidified into ice, yet the coldness was so extreme that it continued to sear through her veins. The wave of frost hurtled down her spine, fractals dissipating as soon as they appeared, only to be replaced with a wash of hot fury.  _How dare he suggest such a thing?_

Her formerly dilated eyes were suddenly slits as thin as whiskers as the darkness of the night closed in tighter around her. Without realizing it, she had pulled away from her mate, her hackles raised and back arched in a wild assortment of terror and rage. Barely able to see beneath the murky light of oncoming dawn, she slowly lifted a paw, claws unsheathed and mouth drawn back in a feral hiss. She could somewhat make out Snaketooth's equally as frightened expression in front of her, but his words had torn such a wound in her heart that reality seemed to slip away as it had done so many times when she had been living in the medicine den.

"Seedshine," Snaketooth's voice seemed both familiar and distant, but at the very least, it shook Seedshine enough that she sheathed her claws. The tom in front of her seemed to relax a bit, until she cuffed him as hard as she could across his head with her sheathed paws. He recoiled in pain and trepidation.

Feeling her body untangling itself from the grip of mania, she stood up and turned away, glaring at him from behind her shoulder and lashing tail.

"It hasn't even been a moon!" she half spat, half choked out, "You think because I never got to see them for myself that they meant nothing to me?! That I can just try again and forget that I ever went through all the pain of carrying them beneath the clan's disgusted stares and then giving birth to their dead bodies?!"

"No, I—!"

"Don't talk to me! Please. I can't…I…I just can't."

That was all Seedshine could muster out before she turned tail and pelted away back into the pine forest, leaving Snaketooth alone on the lake shore to think about everything that had just happened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact #1: The events of this story take place long after Bramblestar's Storm, but don't include any of the events during and after the A Vision of Shadows arc. That being said, the clans have adopted a far more peaceable approach to life around the lake, despite battles still happening on occasion. Seedshine mentions earlier in this chapter that ShadowClan tries harder than any of the clans to uphold its former reputation, but in general, whenever the clans try to live up to clan-specific stereotypes, such as ShadowClan being wily and aggressive, it ends up feeling somewhat feigned.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: Snaketooth's brother is Falconfall, and their biological father is Screewhisker. Screewhisker's original mate (mother to Snaketooth and Falconfall), passed away, and now Chervilheart is Screewhisker's mate and the adoptive mother of the two toms. Hawkpaw, Larchpaw, and Fennelpaw are Snaketooth and Falconfall's half-siblings.


End file.
